Steadily Breaking Down
by justwaittilligetthrough
Summary: Mercedes has everything she ever wanted. She has friends, a family that loves her, what more could she want? Sam Evans. But what does he want?
1. Breakdown

"Are you coming in?" Santana asked me as we parked beside a gas pump at the Soda Shoppe.

We were singing along to one of the CDs I burned, with all of our favorite songs on it. It was a typical Saturday: Get up late, pack up some DVDs, and head over to Kurt or Brittany's house to have a movie marathon. Sometimes I'd go by myself to Kurt's if Santana and Brittany wanted to spend some quality time together, or vice versa if Kurt and Blaine needed time to reacquaint their selves with each other. And if they both wanted to spend time with their significant other, then I'd graciously step aside and let them be.

I didn't let them know that I was lying alone in my spacious house, stretched out on my bed, or couch, or recliner in my home theater eating the unhealthiest foods and sighing unhappily. Or maybe I'd reside to my bedroom and look outside my window and stare.

Sometimes Kurt would invite me to go with him and Blaine somewhere, but I would always decline. I refused to be the third wheel. And maybe it was that thought alone that turned me cold and bitter and unable to succumb to the cloud of disappointment looming over my head, to let go. I've had everything I ever wanted, so why couldn't I just be happy? I was strong-willed, rich, independent, and had friends that loved me as much as I loved them. Why wasn't I happy?

I took time to shake my head no in between my adlibbing to a song I had on repeat for the past weeks.

_Well I guess I'm trying to be, nonchalant about it_

"Do you want anything in here then?"

"A Peace Tea is fine, and I don't care what flavor you get." I replied grabbing my wallet to hand her some money before she shook her head.

"No, you always buy the food. It's on me this time, Wheezy." She said smirking and closing the door before I could protest.

I shook my head before smiling. "Thank you!" I yelled through my rolled down window at her retreating form.

"Welcome!"

It made me happy to know that my friends were friends with me for who I was not how much money my family had or what I could buy them.

I went back to the song as it neared the end, singing my lonely heart out as much as I could without sounding and looking like a maniac.

_But in reality I'm slowly losing my mind, underneath the disguise of a smile gradually I'm dying inside_

I didn't hear the car pulling up to the gas pump beside me, I didn't see the person getting out of their car, and I definitely didn't feel their stare on me as I continued to sing.

_Friends ask me how I feel and I lie convincingly, 'cause I don't want to reveal the fact that I'm suffering_

I swear that if I knew I was being watched I wouldn't even had started singing. I would've kept quiet, but I didn't know.

_So then I wear my disguise 'till I go home at night and turn down all the lights, and then I breakdown and cry_

When I was done I sighed, content with how I finished off the song. I turned my head to see if I could figure out what was taking Santana so long in the Soda Shoppe with just a glance when I saw him. He was standing next to his car, pumping gas and whistling the tune I was just singing. It shocked me.

Did he catch me singing? Had he been there the whole time? Was he making fun of me?

I took in his Vans, dark wash jeans and red hoodie before looking up at his face. His lips were thick and full looking and his eyes were a light shade of blue or green or maybe hazel. I couldn't tell from where I was.

_Oh God, _I thought._ A cute guy just rolled up in his Ford F150 and I've been sitting in this car lookin' a damn fool singing like that. Of course this only happens to me._

Taking a chance I stared him straight in the eyes daring him to make fun of me. Instead, he smirked before whistling a bit louder.

I could feel my face getting hot with embarrassment. I glared at him before turning away, and wishing Santana would hurry up and return so we could get out of here already. _What was she _doing_ in there?_

"You sounded pretty."

I whipped my head around to look at the boy who was previously whistling, not believing my ears.

"I mean, you sounded _really _good." He reiterated, grinning.

I returned the gesture before looking him straight in the eyes again. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, pretty girl."

Was this incredibly attractive stranger _flirting_ with _me? _I was only wearing a tee shirt and jean shorts, some old flip flops and my hair was in a bun on top of my head. It definitely wasn't my finest outfit, yet he was flirting with me?

I never got the chance to beg his pardon because Santana finally remembered she was supposed to be pumping gas and returned with my Peace Tea in hand, pumped gas and hopped back in the car.

"Missed me?" She asked, shooting me an apologetic look.

I could feel his stare on me as I spoke. "Not really."

"I guess someone was too disconnected from reality and busy pretending they're on stage to miss their best friend, huh?" Santana said, slightly offended.

As the car started moving forward, I turned around to look at the boy who called me _pretty _and saw him smiling brightly at me. He waved goodbye and I returned the smile but didn't wave because I didn't want to tell Santana what happened. I didn't want her or Kurt's opinion tarnishing my outlook on what just happened. This was innocent, it was a moment of something unexpected and beautiful, and it was all mines.

"Yup Santana, I was definitely disconnected from reality."

* * *

><p><strong>I'm not sure if this should be a oneshot, an ongoing chapter story or what. But either way, comments? Questions?<strong>


	2. First Sight

It had been two years since that moment. Two years passed between seeing his smile and hearing him call me pretty, but I never forgot about it. In those two years nothing like what I went through at that gas pump happened again. Not with him, not with anyone else. I was in tenth grade when I saw him at that gas pump, I was a senior now.

Whenever we finally got to Kurt's house that day I didn't let on about what had happened, because in truth I didn't really know what happened myself. It wasn't a big deal, but then again it was. It felt more different than I should of. I wish I could've gotten his number, his name, _something_.

I remember in Junior High reading _The Outsiders _and I finally understood what one of the Socs meant. When you have everything you could ever want, there isn't anything left to desire. So instead you're left feeling empty and numb and always searching for something else to look forward to. I found something to want that Saturday. I found what I'd been searching for.

_Him._

"Hey Cedes', you ready to get this show on the road yet?" Santana asked me now.

We were sitting in her car the morning of our first day back to school. I guessed I zoned out again. I've been doing that a lot these last couple of years. Santana's noticed me drifting off into another realm sometimes when she talks to me. I blow it off as being tired or having a lot on my mind, which are both terrible lies. I haven't really had much of anything on my mind except _him_.

"Yeah, I am. Let's go."

* * *

><p>I saw Kurt after I left Santana so she could go find Brittany before class started. He was putting his new supplies up in his locker, the same locker he's had for the last four years.<p>

"Kurt!" I exclaimed, shocking him out of his solitude.

He jumped, placing his hand over his heart and glaring at me. "Jones…" He started warningly.

"Ready for our last year of high school to start?" I asked, trying to get out of him threatening my existence.

His expression changed to something full of happiness. "More than anything."

"I'm so glad we finally have more than just Glee together, y'know?" I started up the usual conversation between us. I bring up a subject we both have strong opinions about, Kurt rants about it. It was easy to get him going, and I didn't have to say much.

"Blaine and I are going to Breadstix after school, you wanna come?" Kurt asked a few minutes later, after we had made it to our first hour together.

_And watch you two have eye sex with each other? No thanks. _"Mom's taking me shopping after school today, babe. I can't. You know I would if I could." I said, frowning and making my most disappointed face at him.

I loved my friends. I just didn't love them so much when they were with their boyfriends or girlfriends.

"Would you?" Kurt asked me, his eyes narrowing.

That question threw me off. "Of course I would! Why wouldn't I?"

"Because," He started, threading his fingers together. Kurt only did that when he was nervous or something was bugging him. "Every time I ask if you want to go with me and Blaine somewhere, you always say no. But if it's just me, you'll go. Or if it's Santana and I, you'll go. But once I bring Blaine into the equation, you say no. "

"What are you getting at, Kurt?"

"You don't like Blaine." He stated, almost making it sound like a question.

"Yes I do!" I did like Blaine, I really did. I just didn't like being in the vicinity of Kurt and Blaine, that's all. Blaine was a really cool guy, and I've known him as long as he and Kurt had been dating. I liked him as long as he kept Kurt happy.

"Then come to Breadstix with us after school."

"No. I just told you my mom's taking me shopping! I can't just cancel on her Kurt. You know that."

"Fine then, come with us tomorrow night." Kurt pressed.

"I'll try to." I said an uneasy feeling manifesting itself in the pit of my stomach.

* * *

><p>It was fourth hour now, the last hour before we were dismissed for lunch. My fourth hour was AP Politics and Government, and it was boring to say the least. We were discussing the Legislative Branches, something I learned about in eighth grade, when someone walked into the classroom. I couldn't tell you who walked in, my head was laying on my desk, and I was turned in the opposite direction of the door.<p>

"What's your name again?" I heard Mr. Codwell asking someone.

I couldn't quite make out what the other person said, they were so quiet. It sounded like _Liam, _or_ Sam._

"Okay then Sam, welcome to AP PG. You can take a seat next to Mike Chang. Mike, raise your hand."

I could hear girls behind me whispering about how hot the new guy was, and I rolled my eyes. Considering that I was in an Advanced Placement class, you'd think I'd be able to avoid this kind of fuckery, but of course I wasn't.

"Now, does anyone know if Ronald Reagan supported Government provided healthcare?" Mr. Codwell asked.

"Of course he didn't! President Reagan believed in people pulling theirs selves up by their bootstraps, why would he do that?" Rachel Berry scoffed, sounding indignant.

Sometimes I hated that Rachel girl. She always thought she was right when she wasn't, and no matter how much I tried she always got solos in Glee club. It was the most frustrating thing in the world. Rachel got what she wanted all the time, and she knew she did. I got what I wanted most of the time, too. But I wasn't obnoxious about it.

I didn't bother proving her wrong, that would only start up crap in Glee that I didn't need. We needed to get our acts together before regionals came this year, and I didn't want Rachel and her ego ruining our shots once again. While I knew that if I got all the solos I would never let my inner diva get in the way of what I wanted, I'd never get the chance to show my fellow members how great of a leader I could be. Rachel made sure of that. Sure it wasn't all her fault; it was Mr. Schue's too, but I liked Rachel a little bit less than him.

"Mercedes lift your head up this isn't nap time." Mr. Codwell said, sounding annoyed.

I raised my head as he asked and shifted so that I was leaning against the back of my chair, my head raised toward the ceiling.

"Actually," an unfamiliar voice spoke up. "Ronald Reagan supported government provided healthcare."

I started, my eyes following the voice I heard. I stopped cold. It was _him. _It had to be. Sure, he looked older than the last time I saw him, his hair was shorter, and his build more muscular, but it was him. No doubt.

I wonder if he'd be able to recognize me. I lost a little weight, got longer extensions and hyped up my wardrobe, but would I still be that girl in the car singing her heart out in his eyes?

"Exactly!" Mr. Codwell exclaimed happily, writing the word _Politics _on the board, and drew a line under the word before writing _Contradictory Politics _under it.

His name was Sam and he was smart. That was all I knew about him so far, but it was more than enough for the place in my heart reserved just for him to grow. I wanted him. I wanted Sam more than I've ever wanted anything in my life. And I intended to get him.

* * *

><p><strong>It's short, and simple. I tried to make up with quality where the quantity's lacking. Comments? Questions? Think it should be a Three Shot? <strong>


	3. Go After What You Want

The moment the bell rang for lunch I was out the door, and running down the hall to the bathroom. I didn't think he saw me yet, but would he have done anything if he did? My breath caught in my throat at the thought. _He couldn't so easily just disregard my presence, _I reasoned as I reapplied my lipstick.

I looked at my reflection and shook my head. I didn't look as good as I thought I did. Sure, I was wearing a nice spring inspired dress and flats, but it was summer and spring stuff just wasn't hot anymore. _Dammit, why couldn't I ever get it right?_

People around me might've thought I had it going on where wardrobe was concerned, but it was hard not to when you had stylists waiting to dress you at your beck and call. This time however, I wanted to develop my own style, not something my mother paid another person to create. And like anything else I tried to do, it fucked up. But not this time, I was going to take the reins and get what I wanted. If I wanted Sam, I had to get my shit together.

My eyes focused in on the cardigan I wore, to cover up my arms and add more color to my outfit. Suddenly I decided it had to go. I slowly slipped the clothing off my shoulder, being left with the spring dress I had on. It still wasn't that summer looking, but it definitely looked better.

I turned to view my profile and looked at how my breasts sort of sagged because I didn't have my bra fastened on the last row. In my mind, comfort always came before beauty. I was going to have to change that, too. I walked into the nearest stall, unclasping and fixing my bra to the point that I actually had cleavage, and put some scented lotion on.

My phone started ringing Santana's ringtone the moment I started braiding my bangs back from my face. "Hello?"

"_Hello?" _Santana said indignantly.

"Yeah, what's up?" I asked pinning back the braid with a bobby pin I had stuffed at the bottom of my purse.

"I'm 'bout to go get somethin' to eat without you, that's wassup." She said, scoffing.

I stopped cold. How in the world did I forget it was lunch time so quickly?"Oh gosh, I'm so sorry Santana. I'm in the bathroom, and I guess I lost track of time. Don't leave; I'm coming out right now." I scooped up all the cosmetic supplies I had lying around the bathroom countertops before dumping them in my bag. My feet couldn't carry me to the exit fast enough; I was in such a rush.

"Lost track of time? What were you doing in there?" Santana stopped nagging me before chuckling. "Wanky."

I rolled my eyes. "You nasty."

When I finally got into Santana's car, she looked at me and her eyes widened.

"_This _is what I was doing in the bathroom." I admitted with a small flip of my hair, pulling out a compact mirror and rubbing my lips together to smooth out the lipstick I had on.

"If I knew you were in there bringing sexy back I would _not _have disturbed the peace."

My heart swelled with pride knowing that my best friend approved of the small changes I made. "It's the little things Tana, that make a big difference."

* * *

><p>"So why did you go all sexy on me?" Santana asked as we got our burritos from the drive-thru at Taco Mayo.<p>

She parked somewhere close to the school and we unraveled our guilty pleasures: Beef burritos with extra cheese and sour cream. This was exactly why we didn't go eat lunch with Kurt and the rest of his drama club friends. They were health nuts, and while I didn't indulge in unhealthy foods like I used to, there was only so much a girl could take.

I passed a hot sauce packet to her before answering. "I just felt like looking good for once, that's all."

Santana ripped open the packet and squeezed all the contents onto her burrito. "Bullshit." She said, without even looking at me.

I sighed and chewed on my food for a long time. _Might as well tell her at this point._ "Don't tell anyone but Kurt this… there's this guy, this new guy that's in my fourth hour. He's really cute, and I want to get to know him."

Santana eyed me for a while. "What's his name?"

"Sam. Sam something, I don't know his last name."

"I know him, he's in my English class, and he sits in the back. He's the one that doesn't really talk much, smarts off and seems like a major nerd?"

"Um… that might be him." He didn't really talk much, but who did when they were new to a school? And of course he seemed like a nerd; he was in AP _Politics and Government _for God's sake.

Santana quirked her eyebrow, I guess assuming that the description she gave should've painted a vivid picture. "Trouty mouth?"

I almost choked. "What?"

"Trouty mouth, you know, has the lips of a trout?"

"Excuse me?" _What was she talking about?_

She sighed in irritation. "Does he have a big ass mouth? Froggy lips? The lips of a fish, more specifically a trout?"

"Oh yeah, he does." I said, side eyeing Santana. _She could be so weird sometimes._

Her face broke out into a grin after she finished her burrito. "Well you go get your man, Wheezy!"

"You think I can do it? I mean, I haven't really gone after a person before." And it was true. Of the handful of dates I've been on in the past, the guys were all known mutually through my Dad. He approved all my dates, and every single person who wanted to be with me, had to talk to him first. I've only had about two boyfriends in my lifetime, unsurprisingly. It wasn't their fault we didn't last though, it was mine. I couldn't deal with preppy soon-to-be-frat-boys. Their attitude was whack, but that was to be expected. I wasn't one to talk when I'd soon be another sorority girl just like my mother was, if my parents had their way.

Sam seemed so different from everything I'd ever known, kind of like Santana in a way. My parents didn't really like her, and I wouldn't lie and say I couldn't see how. Her humor was sarcastic and rude and most times lacking common courtesies, but I loved that about her. She wasn't afraid to be herself even if it meant being ostracized or frowned upon. She was afraid of being someone she wasn't. I always looked up to Santana even if she wasn't the ideal role model, she was perfect to me. But I didn't want a romantic relationship from her, I wanted one from Sam.

Sam, who looked me in the eyes and called me pretty, Sam, who dared to whistle the tune a girl was just belting. I needed to know what it was like to be with a person like him romantically, I craved a break from the unexciting boys of the east side. But if he was anything like Santana, my parents would never let me date him.

I wrapped up the remains of burrito I had left and threw it into the plastic sack laying at my feet. I suddenly wasn't hungry anymore.

"Of course you can do it, Cedes! You brought sexy back with just a braid in your hair and some cleavage, you can do anything you put your mind to, and I believe that." Santana said, her words once again filling me with confidence and love for my best friend.

"Will you help me?" I asked, as she pulled into the parking lot of McKinley. We had ten minutes before fifth hour would begin.

She smiled at me and nodded. "Of course I will, and you know Kurt will help, too. But you best be getting your man, no backing out on us. Deal?"

My pinkie finger wrapped around hers. "Deal."

* * *

><p><strong>Again, quality over quantity. This story probably won't be longer than ten chapters, but who knows? You guys can convince me to do pretty much anything. :P Comments? Questions?<strong>


	4. Underneath the Disguise of a Smile

The school day went smoothly after the roller coaster it had been during the first few hours. I hadn't seen one sign of Sam after fourth hour, and to be honest I was disappointed. It wasn't like I went to the bathroom and did all that work for nothing. Well Puck seemed to like my change, but I've been there and done that.

Mom picked me up after school to my surprise, and I haven't said a word to her yet. Not because I didn't like my mother, I loved her with all my heart. I wasn't talking because I didn't have anything special to say. My mom was always moving, always on the go, always away somewhere on a business trip making money our family didn't need. Most of the time she'd donate her earnings to a charity overseas in Africa, or she'd put it in me and my brother's ever-growing trust fund.

I didn't want to waste time talking about my petty trials and tribulations to my mom. She had so many bigger and better things on her mind; I couldn't burden her with my issues. It wasn't like she wouldn't listen if I started talking to her, I'm sure she would have. Either way, I didn't know. I never spoke up.

"How was your last first day of high school?" Mom asked, striking up conversation as she accelerated onto the busiest freeway in Ohio.

I've mentioned to mom many times to not take this route to our favorite boutique, and every time she would take the freeway regardless. Maybe she wasn't listening to me when I did say something. Maybe she forgot what I said along the way to one of her meetings and never thought about it again.

"It was fine." I replied, staring at out the window and seeing other cars whizzing past us. _How slow were we going? _My eyes darted over to the speedometer. Mom was going 50 mph on the _freeway. _

"Really? Just fine? You didn't meet anyone new? Did you see any cute boys?"

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "No, I didn't. I haven't seen any cute boys, and if there's anyone new at that school I haven't met them." Sometimes I was such a good liar it scared me.

"Oh." She sounded let down. Would she have had asked about more if I would've said something? Did I miss an opportunity to have a heart to heart with my mother?

She didn't bring the subject of school up again, and I couldn't help but feel that I didn't miss a thing.

* * *

><p>"How about this?"<p>

"No."

"Well do you like this one?"

"Not really."

"Oh Mercy, look at these beautiful knee knockers!"

My eyes rolled at mom's vocabulary before checking out the capris' she held. They were cute, I couldn't deny that. I was about to say yes to her about getting them before my eyes zoomed in on the brand. These jeans were _Rock Revivals, _and I knew their trademark very well. Every time my mother would take me to a boutique, she'd urge me to buy them. _Rock Revivals _cost two hundred dollars a pair, and there was no way I would go around school flaunting my lifestyle like that. If I wanted to be obnoxious about being rich, I'd go to a private school.

"Mom…" I started, getting mad just thinking about her wanting me to buy these.

"Oh no Mercedes, don't you look at me like that. I know that their pricey, but you know very well that I could afford to buy you a hundred pairs of these if I felt like it. Children your age all have expensive clothes, or shoes. Them kids up north even have _Air Jordans_, and you know that they don't have a dime to their name. Even poor kids want the finer things in life. Your father and I have worked hard all our lives to give you and your brothers the life we didn't get the fortune of growing up with. And every time you refuse to buy nice things for yourself, it's like a slap in the face to me." She said, picking up two more pairs of _Rock Revivals_ and walking over to a rack that I knew had shirts with prices going for eighty dollars and up.

I stood there slack jawed. I thought all she cared about were appearances, and trying to make money. I knew she cared about me and loved me, but I didn't know that sometimes she wanted to spoil me just because that's what _every _good mother wants to do to their child.

"Hey mom I'm sorry, I"

"I know." She said, turning to me and smiling. Her face looked young and well taken care of, but in her eyes I could see the sadness and stress she must've gone through to get to this point in her life. My mom was a normal woman living a life only one-percent of the people in this country got to live. But she wasn't always like that. She came from less than comfortable roots, and now she was living the American dream. It was something to idolize, not frown upon. I wish I saw this side of my mother a lot sooner than today. Then again it was better late than never.

"I'm going to buy you these clothes Mercy and I don't want to hear a word about it. Now go get me a sprite from one of the ladies up front, and make sure to tell them not to use too much ice."

Make no mistake about my mother though; she was a woman that had been taken good care of for a _very_ long time.

"Okay mom." I said, walking away with the hint of a smirk on my face.

* * *

><p>"When's Dad gonna be home?" I asked, walking into the house with two bags in my hand, and mom with three in hers. Luckily they weren't all mine, I'd feel terrible if they were. <em>Baby steps <em>I chanted in my head, going over to the Sub Zero fridge and grabbing a bottle of water.

My house was a place people dreamed of occupying, I knew, but to me it was just home. I lived in a gated community, and my house had over seven thousand square footage of space to live on. The mansion had two large stories, six bedrooms and seven bathrooms. I lived on about two acres of land; I had an indoor pool and an outside in ground pool. When Kurt came over for the first time, his eyes almost popped out of his head. It was a reaction I was anticipating, however nothing could've readied me for the look on his face. He was my first real friend, and I don't know, I guess I expected him to just walk in my home like it was his. Kurt eventually started acting like my house was welcome to him anytime, but the first few times he was over he acted as if I lived in a house made of glass.

"He told me he'd be home next week. Is there something you wanted to say to him?" Mom asked, laying her bags next to the spiral staircase she was sitting on.

"No, not really." I never had something new or exciting to say to anyone of my family, but that didn't mean I didn't want to talk to them. Besides, he was my father, why did I need a purpose to speak to him? I wasn't a client, I was his daughter.

Dad had a job on Wall Street, and he made all his money that way. Some people don't condone working for that job sector from the bad rep it gets, but when my father was just starting out it put food on the table. My dad didn't have a college degree, and neither did my mom, they never had the money or the opportunity. However you don't need a degree to work on Wall Street; you just have to be reliable and very persuasive.

What really sucked about my dad's job was he was constantly away from home. He was in high demand, and I knew he couldn't just drop everything he worked hard for in order to give his children the world. Still, sometimes I wish he would. Between mom always working and dad always busy or gone, I was truly lonely. When I was a child it wasn't so bad, I had four other brothers to keep my company. Now it was just me, myself and I in this big house.

Mom eyed me for a moment before walking into the kitchen and pulling out stuff from the fridge. "Do you want some of this left over lasagna? Or I could call in a pizza, or we could have this fried chicken, or"

"Lasagna." I said, cutting her off.

"Alright, you go upstairs and get comfortable and I'll call you down here when I'm done heating this food up. You want a salad with it?" Mom's head was partly in the fridge, and I could hear moving the various food items around.

I thought about what it must be like for families that didn't have anything to eat. My stomach growled then, but I didn't have an appetite anymore. "Yeah, sure."

* * *

><p>"So have you gone shopping yet?" Santana asked me on webcam.<p>

I just got through taking a shower when she video called me, and I hadn't even gotten out of my robe yet. "Yup, and mom bought all the clothes without my consent. Expect me to look like a preppy bitch tomorrow."

"Well at least you'll be rocking an actual style." Santana replied with a shrug.

Ouch, that hurt. I wouldn't mention it though, because that's just how she was. Rude. "Should I do the braid thing again tomorrow? Should I look for Sam? Should I be sporting some cleavage or should I"

"Slow your rolls, Wheezy. Cleavage is a mandatory thing, but let's be keeping it minimal. You're a virgin, not a homie hopper. And yes, do braid your hair, but get your mother's help this time. And"

"Why do I need mom's help with something I'm capable of doing?" I interjected, getting offended again. My face was hot, and I wasn't sure if it was because I was insulted, or because of the shower.

"A mother's touch makes everything better. Now can I finish?" Santana asked before going on anyway. "Look for Trouty Mouth, but don't make it noticeable. Follow him somewhere and pretend you have a purpose to be in the same vicinity as him. However I don't recommend doing this everywhere he goes, because then it'll be flat out obvious. Walk like you're the diva you are, yady yada etc."

I nodded, taking all this information in.

"Mercy!" I heard my mom on the intercom of my house.

"Hold on." I said to Santana as I got up and went over to my receiver to reply.

"Yes?" I asked, pressing the intercom button.

"The food's ready, so come eat!"

"Okay, I'm coming." I replied before leaving the receiver and returning to my desk.

"I have to go."

Santana nodded, almost looking disappointed. "I know."

"I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

"Yeah, okay." She looked everywhere but at me, and I knew something was up.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, it's nothing." Santana wiped at her eyes before cursing.

"Tana…" I warned, not even about to put up with her elusive lies.

"Okay, it's not nothing." She confessed looking me in the eyes. Her eyes said it all, something bad had happened. I wish I didn't have to comply with everything my mom asked of me. I'd much rather stay on the computer and demand what was going on with my best friend.

"It's okay, you have to go. I understand." She sniffed, looking away again breathing heavily.

"No, look I can"

"No, don't skip dinner to talk to me. I don't want to talk about it right now anyway. I'll tell you in the morning." She said goodnight and ended the call before I could say goodbye.

* * *

><p>Later that night after dinner as I was about to go back upstairs and attempt sleep, mom called for me. "Yes?" I asked, grabbing her plate and stacking hers on mine.<p>

"I know its hard being without you're father honey. It's hard for me too, and I know its hell for him." Mom said inhaling deeply and sniffing. _Oh God, first Tana and now her?_

"Okay." I nodded, not sure where she was going with this. It wasn't abnormal for me to miss him; I spent more time missing my father than I interacted with him.

Mom grabbed my hand and squeezed. "Call him when you get up in the morning. He wants to talk to you, too."

A lump suddenly appeared in my throat, and I tried to swallow it down. "Alright, I'll call him. Thank you." I turned and walked into the kitchen feeling my eyes water, yet I was happy. _I'm gonna talk to Dad for the first time in two weeks. _

"Goodnight baby, make sure to turn all the lights off!" I heard mom as she left the dining room.

"Goodnight!"

"Love you!"

"Love you too!"

* * *

><p><strong>The chapter is actually longer this time lol. Did you like it? I thought I might've gotten a bit carried away. Comments? Questions?<strong>


	5. Situation of Mind

**Mercedes POV**

When I woke up the next morning I was ready to take the world on. And by taking the world on I meant tackling Santana's issues, calling my father and talking to Sam for the first time in years. I got up, took my hair out of its bun and turned on a straightener. I wasn't going to put more thought than what I figured was necessary into my appearance because I didn't want to look like I stepped off the cover of _Seventeen _magazine. I wasn't a diva yet, but with time, anything was possible.

While my straightener heated up I dialed my Dad's cell phone number nervously. No one ever calls that number unless it's an emergency because he has told all of my siblings and I on numerous occasions that time was money and he was too frugal to let money go to waste. Once the phone started ringing, I felt my heart rate pick up. The phone rang twice.

"Hello?" It felt like decades had passed since I heard the baritone voice in my ear. The smile it caused stretched my face out.

"Daddy?"

"Mercedes, hey! Why are you calling, is something wrong?" He sounded worried, of course.

"No I…" I shook my head frustrated. "I… can you talk?"

"Not really honey, I'm gonna try and close a deal with one of my clients soon." Dad sounded like he was on edge, almost like his patience was running out. Time was money after all.

"Oh, okay. I'm sorry." I couldn't help the disappointment that leaked into my tone.

"Don't be Cedes, it isn't your fault. I'll try and give you and your mother a call later..." _He was dismissing me like I was his secretary. _My eyes watered at the thought.

"… Love you."

"Love you too." I hung up before he got a chance to say anything else. I wasn't surprised that I didn't get to talk to my Dad. I was only surprised that in spite of everything, I still cried.

* * *

><p>After mildly straightening my hair and French braiding my bangs, I heard Santana's horn beeping wildly from the driveway. Sighing deeply, I grabbed my bag, and walked to her car with confidence.<p>

"Nice outfit, Wheezy."

I looked down at myself, taking in the preppy attire. _Rock Revival_ capris, _Forever 21_ shirt, and _Sperry's_. Personally I thought I looked expensive, but if that could be considered a style, then I'd take it.

"Thanks." I almost forgot, "So what was going on last night?"

Santana's face paled as I jogged my own memory.

"… You said you'd tell me in the morning?"

"Yeah, I did. It's um, it's really personal. I don't know if I can tell you what I was ready to say last night."

My hand automatically reached out to squeeze her bicep comfortingly. I knew whatever it was she needed to tell me, it couldn't be worse than when Quinn revealed her pregnancy to me two years ago. "I'm your best friend; whatever you're gonna say to me I'll do the best I can to help."

"You can't help this, Mercedes. I'm not sure if I can even help myself." Her fists grasped the steering wheel tighter and I could feel the car accelerating.

"I don't know what's going on with you right now, but if it's something that I can help, I'll help. You just have to let me know what's wrong."

When we got to McKinley, I figured that Santana was never going to tell me what was going on with her and I accepted that. That's how she was sometimes, she'd let me in or she wouldn't. I grabbed the door handle, about to leave her alone to sulk in peace when she stopped me.

"Cedes."

"Yes?"

Santana ran her fingers through her hair and sighed. "Do you promise not to tell anyone?"

"I have no one to tell your secrets to, Santana."

"You have Kurt." She pointed out.

I shrugged. "I suppose, but he's _our_ friend plus I won't tell him anything you don't want me too."

"Good, because I'm don't want him to know." She cast her eyes downward before mumbling something way too soft for me to hear.

"What?"

"I'm lesbian."

* * *

><p><strong>Sam's POV (A week later)<strong>

Mom patted my shoulder as she walked past me in the kitchen, fixing plates of a hot breakfast for the three of us. I tugged on the collar of my polo shirt and sighed heavily. It was just a little bit after six in the morning and I was starting my second week at McKinley High School. My mom and dad chose to talk to me alone, without bothering to wake up Stevie or Stacie. Meaning that whatever they were going to say was only meant for me to hear. It was after I had started on my waffles that they'd decided to speak up.

"Sam, your father and I are very grateful to have gotten back on our feet and make an honest living. We moved away from the old and are trying to start a new life. I think we made the right decision moving all the way to Ohio permanently, don't you?" Mom asked as she sat down at the table, spearing a piece of sausage on her plate.

I looked at her and dad confused, but nodding anyway. "Yeah."

"Are you doing good in school, son? Any problems or anything?" Dad asked.

"Yeah, I'm doing fine in school and I don't have any problems."

"So would you say that you're happy at this new school, Sam?" Mom asked.

"I haven't been at this school long enough to be happy with it, mom." I stopped eating and narrowed my eyes. "Why are you asking me these questions?"

At this point dad set down his fork and focused on me. "We just wanted to say that, well, while we understood why you did it, you did a bunch of bad stuff back in Kentucky. And along with everything that was going on, your attitude wasn't helping."

I blinked as my face got hot and my bad temper was about to make an appearance. I opened up my mouth to reply before mom cut me off.

"What your father and I mean to say is that we don't want you to go down the same path you did in Kentucky. God has given us the chance to have a fresh start here and you should take advantage of that. You can choose to be whoever you want to be, and you should choose wisely."

Meaning that now my parents had good jobs again I needed to act the part and be a golden boy. Being a golden boy again meant acting like the problems of the world didn't affect me and being sprung out over some random girl with a cute face and a frame to match. It was much easier said than done. I'd love to go back to that lifestyle, but now that I've seen the other side I can't just pretend that I've never been there.

Yet despite the way I felt inside, I went along with what they wished, because my family's wants always come first before my own. "Okay, I'll try."

Mom smiled, and she reached out to squeeze my hand. "That's all we wanted to hear."

* * *

><p>Surprisingly I had already made a friend at McKinley. His name was Kurt and he was a certified genius, as well as my tutor. Mom probably set it up, but he helped me with my reading. It's hard to explain without getting defensive that I'm dyslexic, because for the longest time I didn't know how to read and that's embarrassing to admit. By the time I learned, I was way behind my class. Kurt must have known this information before he started tutoring me and didn't mention it, or he just didn't care about my background information since we got to work the moment we met in the library after school. He was flamboyant, and he had the tendency to look at me with an unreadable expression, but otherwise he was the best tutor I ever had.<p>

"_Hey, thanks for helping me with this. I appreciate it, really." _I said on that Friday, the last session with him for the week.

"_You're welcome." He had made a move to get up and leave before I stopped him with a hand on his shoulder._

"_It's a Friday night, how about we um…. go do something fun?" _At the time, it seemed like a great idea. He helped me out, and now I could repay him.

"_Like what?" He didn't appear nearly as elated as he should have._

"_Uh, I dunno." I shrugged. I couldn't think of anything fun to do other than play COD or watch Avatar._

"_You wanna watch my limited edition Avatar DVD with me?" It sounded colossally lame, I knew, but it was all I could think of. _

"_Are you serious?" I nodded._

"_You want _me_ to go with _you_, and watch Avatar?" Kurt asked, arching an eyebrow._

"_Well…yeah." _

"_Why?"_

_I was not expecting him to question my motives. "Because why not? You helped me out."_

_Kurt's eyebrow arched even higher. "And by spending time together, you would be helping me out?"_

_I bit my lip. "Well when you put it like that it doesn't sound as good anymore."_

"_It doesn't. But from what I've gathered these past few tutoring sessions you're not that good with words, so I'll let it slide." Kurt smirked at my befuddled expression before he reached for his bag again._

"_Lead the way."_

Kurt spent that whole evening in my closet criticizing my wardrobe instead of actually watching the movie, which insulted the greatness that Avatar was, but I got over it.

"_Why don't you wear anything that will make you look good? It's not like you don't have a physique to work with. For example, if you wore just a simple long sleeve tee with these-" Kurt held up a pair of dark wash jeans I hadn't worn in months, "You would have even more admirers than you do now."_

_I looked at him incredulously. "You've been snooping in there for the last thirty minutes; surely you saw all the long sleeve shirts I have."_

_Kurt shook his head. "Yes but, those shirts are bigger than your real size. With your biceps, you need to be wearing a size _smaller _not bigger."_

_He's been observing my arms this whole time? "I thought you came with me to watch Avatar, not analyze my clothes."_

"_Alright, have it your way." Kurt left the space, closing the door behind him. "But we'll talk about this again soon."_

Kurt didn't know about my past, he didn't know that I was deliberately wearing things that didn't bring attention to me. I wasn't looking for women to ogle me like I was an object to play with, I knew to the worst extent what that was like and I hated it. Besides, I'm not looking for a girlfriend.

* * *

><p>"So have you actually tried to make friends here yet? Enough people are talking about you as it is." Kurt said after he walked up to my locker as I was getting my supplies ready for class. I came to school with a bad mood, and talking about making friends was sure to annoy me even futher.<p>

"I don't want friends." I told him, grimacing.

"That's a terrible lie. You wanted to hang out with me, did you not? Are you saying we're not friends?"

"No. I just…" Sometimes I regretted my friendship with Kurt. We'd only hung out twice in the past two weeks and he was way too insightful for his own good. "Haven't found anyone worth talking to."

Kurt nodded. "Fair enough. Broke any hearts yet?"

"Nope, and I don't plan to."

"Why not?"

I thought of the girl I had seen all those years ago, singing in a beat up corvette with her hair in a bun on top of her head and her face clear of blemishes. It was silly of me to still be thinking about her after all this time; I didn't even know her name. But she had a pretty voice and face, I did know that. "I'm just not interested, that's all."

He raised an eyebrow. He did that a lot, I was starting to notice. "I know that look. You already like someone."

"No I don't."

"Yes you do."

"_No, _I don't."

Kurt smirked knowingly. "_Yes,_ you do."

This argument went on until finally I slammed my locker door in frustration. "Okay, fine! I do like someone but so what? It's not like anything's going to happen." I took off for my first hour in a huff. Of course Kurt followed.

"You already know what I'm about to ask." He said.

"Look." I stopped at a set of lockers right next to the classroom I was headed to. "She's wonderful. She's pretty and her voice is amazing and I would have loved to get to know her better. But I'll never get the chance, because that was years ago and I don't even know her name."

I turned and walked away, leaving Kurt standing there with a frown on his face.

* * *

><p><strong>Before you ask, Samcedes hasn't met. And no, Mercedes had no clue Santana was lesbian, she suspected it, but that's all. Why? Well, those questions will be answered in the next chapter. Or maybe you can firgure it out? What do you think? Please review!<strong>


	6. Complicated

**Mercedes POV (a week ago)**

Santana was looking at me expectantly, waiting for my rejection or acceptance. Santana has told me a lot about her in the past, and I've been told things I didn't know if I could handle. This was one of those things. Even thinking it made me feel like an ignorant fool, but I didn't know what to say to her. How was I supposed to know that by spending _'quality time with Britts'_ she meant _that _kind of quality time? How did I not see the signs before? Considering that Kurt was very gay, I should have been able to tell that Santana was, but I couldn't. With Kurt it was different, I _expected _him to be gay.

"Are you, are you sure?" I asked.

She nodded. "Positive."

"Alright then, you're gay. I still love you just the same." I reached out to hold her hand. "That doesn't really explain why you were upset last night, though."

"I told my grandma. She said-" Santana's eyes watered and I felt her grip tighten on my hand. "She told me that I was going to hell. She said that I've lost my connection with God, that Lucifer had got a hold of me." She stopped as tears rolled down her cheeks.

"Santana you know that's not true." My eyes rolled just thinking about the BS that came out of that old woman's mouth. Yes, Santana telling me the truth of her sexual orientation made me uncomfortable. But I had my reasons. Her grandma however? Not so much.

"Mercedes, my grandmother has always had a tight grip on me. She's taken care of me when my own mom refused to. When no one else wanted me, she was there. And you know whatever grandma says, has a huge influence on me so," She wiped away the tears that were still running down her face.

"After Christmas break, I'll be going away for a while."

"What?"

Santana was silent for a few moments, and I sat still looking out the window. Teenagers were filing into the school and out of the parking lot, meaning that school would be starting soon. We were going to be late and probably end up serving detention, I realized. It didn't change my disposition, though. I was going to sit in this car all day if I had to.

"I'm leaving for a treatment facility; where there are people like me there." She sounded like her old, apathetic self. Yet she seemed detached from the situation, in a way that was completely unfamiliar.

"People like you? You mean gay people?"

"Yeah, gay people." She chuckled, even though we both knew that it wasn't funny. "I'm going to get help for my predicament, so I can be normal again."

"You're perfect the way you are! For God's sake, what about Kurt? You think he needs help too?" _How could Santana even consider this bullshit? _

"I don't know about him, he's gonna have to face that problem himself on Judgment Day. But grandma said that I'm not supposed to be like this, and I believe her..."

Suddenly, I knew why Santana seemed different. She surrendered, she gave up. The only person that I could rely on to be true to their self just confessed that they were vulnerable in the worst way. Santana was a strong person. But how strong could one person be if something like this tore them apart so effortlessly? I could feel a headache pounding against my skull. Again, I didn't know what to say.

"She said it wasn't my fault that I was like this. Its Dad fault, y'know for what he did to me when I was younger." She coughed, trying to cover up that she was practically sobbing. I could feel bile in the back of my throat just at the mention of the sick bastard. When we first became friends, I thought Santana's mother was the extent of how bad it got, but she threw me for a loop when she told me about her dad. He was definitely someone I didn't want to be thinking about.

"Santana, he's not the reason why you're lesbian. You shouldn't leave for a treatment facility because you think you have some sort of mental illness. You're just gay, and that's that." I was still holding onto her hand and if I could, I'd never let go.

"But it makes sense, after him… every guy that touches me reminds me of him. Every. Single. One. I've been with so many guys, Mercy. I've lain with them thinking it'd be different each time. But it wasn't, they all smelled like him. So yeah, it's probably his fault."

I soaked up the information, trying not to scream and shake sense into her. "Do you really want to go through with this?"

She shrugged. "What choice do I have?"

"You could always be yourself." I suggested.

"I don't know who I am, and that's why I'm leaving Mercedes. When I get back, I will be myself."

"Do you actually believe that?"

She nodded. "I do."

_What else could I possibly do to make her realize that there wasn't anything wrong with her?_ I reached out to squeeze her shoulder. "I'll support whatever you choose to do. Just know that for me, it doesn't matter _who_ you love, I love _you._"

"Thank you, Mercedes."

* * *

><p><em>How did I not know that Santana was lesbian? How long had she known she was? <em>I mused in my second period as I tried but failed to pay attention to Mrs. Anderson. _All that time she spent with Brittany, the lingering looks she sent her… Not to mention that one time she slept over at my house… _I remember getting out of the shower with a fluffy towel wrapped around myself and walking to my spacious closet for some pajamas, feeling a heated gaze on my back the whole walk there.

"_What?" I asked, turning to look at Santana once I opened the closet door and found a robe to wear for the time being._

_She shrugged, still staring at some spot on my back. "Nothing, your hair looks funny is all." I quirked my eyebrow at that, but continued to look for some sleepwear._

I blushed at the thought. _Was she checking me out at the time? _I shook my head, dismissing the idea. It was despicable of me to be thinking of Santana like that, just because she was lesbian didn't mean that every girl she saw she had feelings for.

_Pay attention, Mercedes. _I reprimanded myself, tuning back into today's lesson.

The first three hours of the day went by in a flash, and now here I was in fourth period, staring a hole into the back of Sam Evans. My leg was bouncing, and my poor lip was getting chewed up. _Should I approach to him? What would I say if I did? Should I be thinking about a guy when my best friend was going through the toughest time of her life right now? _Immediately following the thought was a terrible feeling full of guilt. Of course I shouldn't be thinking about a guy, even if it was Sam and I was anticipating the moment he recognized me. I bit my lip noticing the black leather jacket he wore that fit him like glove. _Damn._

_Doesn't matter. _I tried to convince myself. _It's just a nice looking jacket on a really nice looking guy. Get it together Mercedes! _I exhaled deeply, reclining back into my chair and trying to calm myself down. I'd get my chance to regain whatever it was that we shared all those years ago, but considering the circumstances now just wasn't the time.

Just as I was ready to try and listen to Mr. Codwell play the devil's advocate Quinn Fabray, walked in the classroom. She was an office aid by school day and captain of the Cheerios in the afternoon. Quinn was the prettiest girl in school 24/7, and being perfect might as well have been her occupation. Well she took a break from being flawless when she got pregnant a couple of years ago, but I've learned that my generation has the tendency to forget things very quickly. Like when Quinn disregarded my existence after everyone forgot about her big screw up.

She smiled at Mr. Codwell before handing him a slip of paper. He glanced at the paper once then signaled at Sam to come there. I cursed. _What was I going to stare at now? _He grabbed the paper from him nodding and leaving the classroom, to never come back for the rest of the hour.

_What the heck? _I thought picking up my supplies when the bell rang and other kids started leaving the classroom. I knew that whatever Sam was doing wasn't any of my business, yet I couldn't help but wonder. Especially since I've heard the rumors about him. Some said he was a bad guy, nothing but trouble. A few swore that at his other school he broke every girl's heart, which wasn't hard to believe. While I didn't know him, there was a part of me that felt like I had a really special connection with him, so I didn't believe the rumors. Kurt mentioned tutoring him, but that's all he said and I hadn't told him about my crush on Sam. And with everything going on with Santana I definitely wouldn't for a while.

I was heading toward my last hour when I bumped into a brute of a man. I stumbled a bit, thinking I ran into the principal. My grip tightened on my backpack straps. "Sorry-"

"No it's okay." The brute said.

_Well that doesn't sound like the principal._ My eyes focused on who I bumped into, quickly realizing it was Shane Tinsley. I've known him for years, and there wasn't much I knew about him other than that he hung out with a bunch of assholes. I've never witnessed him being mean to people, but I've seen and experienced his friends' evil doing. That was bad enough.

"Oh um, okay." I turned on my heel, ready to go in the other direction.

"Wait!"

"Huh?"

"Our class is over there." He jabbed a thumb the size of my hand behind him.

"Our class?"

"Yeah, pre-calculus? Mrs. Silvia's class?"

I blinked. "But how did you…"

He placed a hand near his heart, teetering backward a bit in mock surprise. "I'm hurt! You haven't noticed me in there? I'm kind of hard to miss."

"No," I said, shaking my head. "I mean, no I did I just didn't think you noticed me."

Shane scoffed. "How could I not? Your hand is always raised."

"Now I'm hurt!" I exclaimed with a smile.

"I'm sorry, maybe I should help walk you to class?" He grinned, and it was kind of cute.

"What are you, a boy's scout?" I asked, arching an eyebrow.

"I was, and you should be honored to be walking with a former cub scout."

I chuckled. "Let me guess, once you turned into a grizzly bear they kicked you out of the cub scouts?"

"You just keep hurting me, woman!"

We walked to class together, and although I did have a nice time chatting with Shane, I couldn't help wondering why he hung out with a bunch of pricks when he was so nice.

* * *

><p><strong>Sam's POV (a week ago)<strong>

I got called out of fourth period to have a cram tutoring session with Kurt. I was surprised when I came into the library and there were books scattered all over our table. Kurt had his glasses perched on his nose and gave me a look when waved at him as I walked in.

"You could've got here earlier."

I darted my eyes to a clock nearby. "How? I got the slip to leave class five minutes ago."

"That's two minutes that could be used studying." He shook his head. "But nonetheless, I'm wasting time talking about your slow walking habits-"

"My _what?_"

"…When that's not what we're here for. This is a big day for both of us."

I could feel my eyebrows furrowing. "What are you talking about? I just have a reading test later. You've helped me a lot, so I'm sure I'll do fine."

"It's not that simple, Evans." Kurt gave a pointed look towards the chair in front of him. I sat down.

"See," He went on. "This test you're taking is not just a standard trying-to-keep-up-with-your-progress test; this can make or break you."

"I doubt it."

Kurt pointed at the handbook he had in his hand. "Believe it, Sam. This can help you out in more ways than one. First, if you pass the exam then you'll never have to take it again. Second, if you do extremely well then the school can allow you to take AP English Literature and Composition. Third and most important, if you manage it then you will have taken four AP classes, like you've wanted to do since freshman year. "

I perked up at his words. If I could get into English L&C then I'd be killing two birds with one stone: I would've proved to myself that I wasn't stupid and am completely capable of anything I put my mind to whilst satisfying mom and dad. I could be their golden boy again and make myself happy too.

I licked my lips. "That's what the handbook says?"

He rolled his eyes. "I'm not just making this stuff up, Goldie locks. Now look, we have almost an hour and forty-five minutes to crack down on this material if we skip lunch. I brought food, so wipe that depressed look off your face."

I licked my lips again, completely unashamed and ready to study as well as eat something. "What are we waiting for, then?"

Kurt reached into his backpack and produced a package of chapsticks, watermelon flavored. "Your lips are going to dry up and deflate if you keep licking them all the time. Here, help yourself." He pushed the pack across the table at me.

I looked at the chapstick hesitantly, half-insulted.

"Take it already, we're wasting time!"

I snatched up the pack and shoved it in my pocket, grumbling my curses at him.

Kurt brought out a saran wrapped turkey sandwich and handed it to me while telling me not to make much noise.

"I don't make noises when I eat!" I exclaimed indignantly.

"Please, you make noises when you speak."

"I hate you." I mumbled around the sandwich.

"Huh?" He asked, opening up a container of grapes and popping one in his mouth.

"Nothing," I swallowed. "So, what's in all this for you?"

"What are you talking about?"

I reached over to the container and grabbed two grapes. "What are you getting out of helping me?"

He blinked at me. "Besides helping out a friend?" I nodded.

"Well," He started. "I have the opportunity to raise my GPA and write off these hours of tutoring as community service for National Honor Society, which would be a huge weight off my shoulders."

I shrugged as I ate the grapes; of course I was just charity work.

"But honestly Sam, I'd do it even if there wasn't anything in it for me."

He was lying, and I knew it. "No you wouldn't."

"Yes I would." He smiled at me grimly and looked down. "You've got to stop thinking that people are out to get something from you."

How could I when someone always wanted something? How could I believe him when he was sitting back helping the needy and getting incentives for it?

"Whatever, let's just get to work."

* * *

><p><strong>Alright, no Samcedes yet but have patience because we're getting there soon! To clear things up this chapter took place during the first week of school and Sam hadn't really trusted Kurt as much as he does in the present, which still isn't much. Questions andor comments? Review please!**


	7. The Start of Something Bad

**Sam's POV (Present)**

It was Thursday, making it a whole week since I took the specialized reading exam. The test was hard, but then again it's always been hard. However this time I was prepared and I was ready to ace it. At first the letters kept jumping out and rearranging their selves making it near impossible for my eyes to focus and get the job done. Although, after I looked away and closed my eyes for a few moments the words got back in their place. The exam almost took two hours to finish which was longer than it's ever taken me, but it wasn't time wasted.

I was in the Library at four in the afternoon reading one of my flash cards when I noticed that Kurt was behaving weird. He hasn't been as loud and flashy as usual, and I didn't know if it was because he's finally come down from the high of having a new friend to harass or if something was really off. I watched him look at his phone and sigh as he wrote something down on a flash card. He's been sighing a lot lately too.

I didn't know how to approach the subject, so I did what I normally do and just dove right into it. "What's wrong?"

Kurt looked up from a flash card. "What makes you think something's wrong?"

I pointed at him. "You haven't said a full sentence since we got in here."

He cocked his head, staring at me. "So because I haven't been as talkative there's something wrong with me?"

"You're always talking." I inferred.

"True."

I waited for him to continue.

"Alright Evans you got me. There is something wrong."

"Well what is it?"

He tapped his phone meaningfully. "My friends have been ignoring me as of late."

_That was it?_ "How do you know they're ignoring you?" I said instead.

"I've been trying to call them non-stop for the past two hours and I've gotten nothing but voicemails." He told me, clearly exasperated.

"How do you know they're not busy or something?"

"Sam." Kurt said frowning at me. "These are _my _friends I'm talking about here. They're not busy."

I rolled my eyes. "Call one of them again, maybe they'll pick up."

He tapped on his phone twice, and the sound of a phone ringing filled the space between us. "It's on speaker, just so you can witness them ignoring me."

_Kurt was extraordinarily dramatic, _I thought. I was going to mention this, but stopped cold.

"Hello?" The voice invaded my ears with vague familiarity. It was low and husky, but definitely feminine.

Kurt clapped his hands together. "Mercy! I thought I'd never hear from you again. Long time no talk, love."

She chuckled, her tone reaching a lower octave. I could feel my face heating up. _Where had I heard that voice before? _"It's been like, three hours since we last talked."

"That's too long." He decided.

"You're being ridiculous."

Kurt looked at me, but I couldn't turn my intense gaze away from his phone. "Hey Sam I'm gonna take this call outside okay? Oh Mercy, say hi to my friend Sam!"

"Hey Sam." Mercy said.

I just sat there, frozen in place and thought. _I know this voice from somewhere, but how? _I was jolted from my musing by a swift kick to the knee. My eyes focused on Kurt as I made sure to give him the grimace of a lifetime.

"Err, hi." I blushed at how nervous I sounded.

Kurt gave me a knowing look before getting up from his chair and leaving the library to talk in private.

"Don't worry about him, he seems lame but it adds to his charm. All he needs is a good molding." I could hear him telling her.

It was official. I hated Kurt.

* * *

><p><strong>Mercedes POV (Present)<strong>

My palms were sweating and I feared that my cell phone might slip out of my hand. I was glad I didn't tell him about my crush on Sam because if I had he would have tried to make me talk to him. Just saying hello to Sam almost reduced my hands to puddles, I don't know what would happen if I actually said anything else to him.

"Mercy, I think something's up with Santana." Kurt said.

"What do you mean?" I asked uneasily. I didn't know who Tana thought she was kidding when she feigned being fine around her best friends. And what's worse was I didn't know how _I _was supposed to keep quiet when Kurt was so insightful.

"She's acting weird." He analyzed.

"Like how?"

"You know how." He said. "Santana's not acting like herself and you know it."

"Yeah," I agreed. "But what do you want me to do about it?"

"Not you, us. We're gonna do something about it."

"What?" I asked, surprised.

"Yup, that's right. You and I are going to confront Santana soon, but I don't know when."

"Kurt, I don't think that's a good idea." Actually, I _knew _that it wasn't a good idea. Santana would hate me for even letting Kurt go through with this.

"And why not?"

"Kurt," I said sighing. "You know her. Every time we try this she gets pissed and goes deeper into her shell."

"Sounds like somebody else I know." He muttered.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

He scoffed. "Mercedes, please."

"Please what?" _Oh God._ _What was he talking about now?_

"Remember when you said you'd try to go to lunch with Blaine and me last week?"

This time, I was silent.

"Do you?" He asked, impatient.

"Look, I screwed up. I know. And I understand that you're mad, okay? But there's a lot going on right now." _Was I in the Twilight Zone?_ I thought that he called me to talk about Santana and her behavior, not chew me out.

"Sorry, we're supposed to be discussing Santana." I could tell he was shaking his head. "We'll talk about us later; right now we need to get our friend back."

"Kurt, I seriously think we need to leave her alone for a while. If she ignores us because we hounded her we would have only made it worse." I argued, once again.

"Whatever, Mercedes."

I ran a hand through my hair and tugged on it in frustration. "What's wrong with you now?"

"Nothing's wrong with me. I just think you need to stop being so shallow."

"_What?"_

"It's true, Mercedes." He admitted. "I love you, but it's wrong not challenging Santana on certain subjects just because you don't want to look bad."

I almost started laughing. _Was he for real? _"Okay, Kurt."

"Don't be mad at me, darling. I'm only being honest."

"Okay."

"Was that attitude I just heard?"

I rolled my eyes. "Look, I gotta go. I'll call you back later."

"Mercedes-" Click. Okay, well, now he'll really be pissed at me this time. But at least I didn't have to listen to his BS any longer.

I walked to my laptop and submitted another application out to a liberal arts college. I turned off the laptop and sat down on my bed. I could the washer machine humming downstairs, and birds chirping outside. I took off my pants and tried to get comfortable. My toes curled, the floor was cool. The air conditioning blasts a precise amount of cold air around the house every thirty minutes, enough to cool down the place, but not enough to freeze it. The silent cycle of my house was loud enough to bust my eardrums. Nobody was home, as usual.

If I were to scream at the top of my lungs in this mansion, not even the birds perched on the roof would be able to hear me. I lay down and turned on my side. Sleep was impossible; I don't even know why I bothered. How could I sleep when there was homework to be done and a hole in my face to be fed? Ugh. I took off my shirt after my arm started to itch._ Might as well. _I scratched my arm freely without the restraint of clothes. Now I was cold.

Why did my friends have to be so complicated? What the hell was Kurt's problem, anyway? I hang out with him practically 24/7 and yet he still finds something to complain about. I loved him, but if he keeps this up I don't know how much more I'll be willing to take.

I go downstairs to eat something, anything. My hands wrap around the fridge door and I open it wide, peering into the cold space. _I'll make some pasta salad. _I get out tomatoes, olives, leftover grilled chicken breast, some steamed artichokes mom put in a Ziplock bag, and garden noodles. I retrieve a chopping board and get the vegetables ready. My eyes dart to the chef knife in its holder. If I felt like it might ease my loneliness, I'd make a miniscule cut in the fleshy skin of my left arm. Or maybe my thigh, no one ever looks there. But I know that it wouldn't, and I'm much better off eating my sadness away. Oh wow, that sounded depressing.

After my pasta salad is finished, I pour a large amount into a bowl and head back upstairs. I chew on a noodle absently, not bothering to turn on the plasma screen that's mounted in the wall to the right of my bookcase. There wasn't any point. I had over six thousand channels, and nothing worth watching was ever on.

I thought of Sam, and his bad boy reputation with a lame demeanor to match. Or, at least Kurt said he was lame. He probably was really sweet. He had to be since he didn't punch Kurt in the face after the first two hours of being around him. If he and I were friends, maybe he could come over after school and I wouldn't have to sit around this big house by myself. I was going to need someone to hang out with after Santana leaves in December.

Still, I couldn't believe that she was actually going away to a crazy house because of her sexual orientation. Being lesbian wasn't a curse, and I couldn't believe Santana's grandmother would make her think that. If her grandmother was a person of any integrity, she would accept her regardless of what she believed. Now, because of her inane idea of what normalcy was, I was going to lose my best friend. My eyes watered. I sniffed and shook my head, slipping under my covers. Homework could wait. I needed to sleep.

* * *

><p><strong>I think I got carried away… ehehe. Does this chapter seem weird? If I get complaints that this chapter was weird I'll just re-write it, haha. Comments andor questions? Review please!**


	8. Finally

**Mercedes POV (Friday)**

I knew whenever I woke up that it wasn't going to be a good day. My hair hadn't been wrapped up or in a bun, so that meant my hair was going to be in tangles. The way I ending up sleeping left my neck with a wicked crook in it, and my bra was digging into my sides. _I really needed to do something about my bra issues. _To top it off when I checked the clock on my bedside table 7:50 a.m. was staring right into my eyes. _Shit! _I was going to be late, and there wasn't anything I could do about it and _oh God, _what about Santana? She must've stopped by the house and rang my phone off the hook before speeding off, pissed as hell.

It went without saying that I was screwed coming and going, but I couldn't just forget I had a best friend. I picked up my cell phone and saw that I had ten missed calls. Cursing myself, I dialed Santana's number.

"Finally woke up I see?"

I exhaled in relief. At least the first sentence wasn't full of profanities. "Sorry. I should've been up when you came over, and I'm sorry that you called me ten times and I'm sorry that I'm always late and-"

"Okay okay shut up I get it, you're sorry." Santana said. "It's fine wheezy, shit happens. I don't care. You're getting me and Kurt mixed up; I'm the _laid back _and _understanding _one, remember?"

I chuckled. "Yeah, whatever."

"So are you coming to school?"

"I don't know." I realized.

"Well, you know I won't blame you if you don't show up. But I'd be much happier if my main chick was here." She said.

"I don't know," I repeated. "But If I don't go I'll have make-up work." I could hear the sounds of people in the background fading away. They were probably filing out of the halls and into their first hours.

"Oh no, not make-up work!" She exclaimed her voice high and shrill.

"Shut up." I said loudly.

"So are you coming or what?" She paused. "You know, if you don't come you'll miss your beau."

"He's not my beau Santana." _Well… _I thought.

"Not yet." I added.

"He's never gonna be your beau if you don't show up to school. I think the perfect way to eliminate the possibility of that happening is to get your booty in class." She said.

"Okay, I'm coming to school now."

"Thank you. Now I gotta go-"

"Wait!" I said. "What should I wear?"

"I dunno something sexy." She replied.

"That doesn't help, Santana."

"And? I gotta go to class before I get a detention, and I'm _not about _to be sitting up in detention cause of you." She said.

"Oh wow, thanks for being a bitch."

"Love you too, bye!" She hung up before I got the chance to cuss her out any more.

I sighed, blowing bangs out of my face and dreading having to comb through my hair later. I knew by the time I got through with everything it'd be way past first hour, so I didn't even bother rushing. I yawned as I stood up, stretching out my arms and glancing down the hallway. I didn't know if mom was already gone or hadn't come home yet. My ears didn't pick up on the sounds of my mother's presence, so for the most part I was alone. But then again when was the last time I wasn't?

After I brushed my hair through and wiped away the tears of pain that came with it, I finally decided that I just didn't care about my appearance today. I slipped on a leopard tee shirt and jeans I had from years ago. Before I even checked to see what time it was I dialed my mother's number.

"Hello?"

"Mom?" I asked, starting down the hallway to the stairs.

"Mercedes, why are you calling me? You know that I can't talk right now I'm at work. Being a senator isn't easy-"

"Mom, look." I said. "I know your job's a lot a work. I know I shouldn't have called, but I need your help. Please." I walked down the stairs of my immense household and surveyed the empty space. Not too long ago it was filled with life, with family. Now everyone was older and gone and didn't have time for the ones they left behind in their wake.

"Honey what's wrong?" She asked worriedly.

I walked to the front door and stopped, bending down to rummage through a pile of shoes I kept laying around. I picked out one strappy sandal and was looking for the other when I replied.

"I woke up really late and I need you to call the school and get me an excused tardy slip." I crossed my fingers as I slipped on the shoes I picked out, not bothering to even make sure they matched with the outfit I wore. I didn't care.

"Mom?" I said after a while of waiting.

"Okay baby, I'll do it." She said, so easily. "Just please wake up a bit earlier next time."

"I will, thank you mom!" I exclaimed, bouncing a bit on the balls of my feet and opening the front door.

"You're welcome Mercy. Now go to school already, because the moment I get off the phone with you I'm calling the secretary and you need to be on your way." She told me.

"Alright I hear you. I'm leaving."

"Bye Mercedes, I love you." She said.

"Love you too." I got off the phone and walked around the house to the garage. I pressed the code into our password box and the garage door opened, revealing cars people only dreamed of. It wasn't that special, to me though. They were only cars, just more things. I walked over to my sixteenth birthday present, a 2010 silver Range Rover. I loved my car, and I was very grateful to my parents for the gift. But there's a reason why I didn't drive my car to school.

When you had a nice car, people stare and talk about you. They assume you're rich and then they want to be your bestie so they can have you drive them around in your nice car. Then after that they come to your house and freeload and take until the only thing you have left to give them is a kick to the curb. My brother lost most of his girlfriends that way, and I didn't want to make the same mistake. Today however, I wouldn't have a choice. I needed to drive myself to school or I wasn't getting there.

I pulled out of the garage in my luxury car, feeling self-conscious and fearing that people would start gossiping about me once they realized it was my car. When I got to a stoplight, I stared at my reflection in the review mirror. There were a few strands loose from my bun around my face, I had no makeup on and my lips were chapped. I moved in closer as I bit my lip and studied my face, the sunlight behind me. This was the Mercedes I was used to. Not short dress wearing, cleavage showing red lipstick Mercedes. That Mercedes was brave and confident and beautiful. She was capable of anything, and she scared me.

A car horn angrily beeping had me practically flooring the gas pedal, and my vehicle almost flew forward. I got in control of what I was doing and cursed myself. _Pay attention Mercedes._

* * *

><p>When fourth period finally rolled around, I was terrified. <em>Should I approach Sam or what? Why the hell did I keep asking myself that question when I had a friend to attend to? What kind of friend was I? <em>Even reprimanding myself didn't help; I couldn't stop wondering if I should make the first move. But if I ignored him and he recognized my voice what would happen then_? He'd think I was snobby bitch, that's what_. But if I talked to him I'd have to bring up Kurt.

_Kurt. Oh God, I forgot all about him and now I was gonna have to speak about him like we were on good terms and _oh no_, what if he said something about me to Sam after I hung up on him and-_ There he was.

He walked into the classroom then, his dirty blonde hair completely shifted to the right like he just shook his swishy hair. He was wearing a plain white Hollister tee shirt and dark wash jeans, a sand colored belt keeping the pants eternally low on his hips. I saw his blue and white checkered Vans even from where I sat. A knot molded itself into the pit of my stomach and I wanted to fall into a black hole. He looked the part of a sweet, completely sexy guy. I could see him breaking a thousand girl's hearts, looking like that.

A jock that I've seen hanging around Shane walked up to Sam and they started talking right there in front of the classroom. If he was going to notice me at this moment I knew there was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. I heard girls all around me talking about how cute Sam was and I felt the green monster swell up in me. Okay, sure I was having some problems putting up and shutting my insecurities down but that didn't mean that I was afraid of what Sam and I could have together.

I leaned down to my backpack to retrieve my binder for the class and a pencil, when I felt a stare burning into my lowered head. With a sense of delighted mortification I felt that it was Sam staring straight at me like that. I stalled and stalled, but eventually I had to raise my head up to see his eyes boring into me. Whats-his-face was still talking excitedly about something to him, and Sam kept nodding and talking, but his eyes were on me.

Now I have to mention that he wasn't staring into my eyes or anything, he was mostly darting his eyes around my face as if trying to make a connection to something. I knew what. _Yes, it was me from the Pop Shoppe on the corner of Main Street two years ago. Don't worry, you're not crazy it's me. I've been here all along._ He recognized me, he remembered. _But what was he going to do next? _I smiled at him, and he smiled back. I looked away after he continued to stare at me and bit my lip. When I turned my head back he was still staring at me, and I was about to distract myself with something else but then he waved at me. I waved back and looked down, trying to hide my goofy smile.

I didn't know where this polite stare off was going, but I couldn't wait to find out.

* * *

><p><strong>I'm such a tease, haha. Don't fret though- I'm already working on chapter 9 and I promise we'll finally get some interaction from Samcedes. What do you think will happen? How will it go? Do you feel that conflict is bubbling beneath the surface? I love to hear from you guys, so review please!<strong>


	9. Complicated, again

**Sam's POV (Friday morning)**

My mother returned from her impromptu girls day out yesterday rejuvenated, happy and ready to go back to her new job. I didn't know how she managed a girl's day out when to my knowledge; she had no new friends in Lima yet. I also didn't understand how she talked her way out of going to work yesterday, but with everything else around my household, I didn't ask questions. I was happy my mom was happy and got to do stuff she used to do. This all would've been great if her newfound energy hadn't been directed towards bothering me more.

"Spending time with Margret Fabray and the Berry's at the spa was completely enlightening yesterday. Did you know Margret has a daughter? Her names Quinn and she's captain of the cheerleading squad. If she's anything like her mother, she's sure to be a knock out!" She said to me as I poked at my breakfast before school. I didn't care about Quinn; I didn't even know her.

"I'm going away this weekend with her to visit the senator! Isn't that exciting? I was thinking maybe you'd come along for the ride?"

After fantasying about getting a weekend to myself, not to mention anticipating my test results, this did not sound exciting. It sounded painful. But I didn't say anything. "So you want me to go to the senator's house with you?"

"Her house isn't going to be filled with political figures or anything," She said, as if that was what I was asking. "It'll be relaxing, and I heard Senator Clarice Jones has a few kids herself!"

"You know, after talking to Margret yesterday I realized something," Mom continued as she made plates for Dad, Stevie and Stacie. "If I can keep a good relationship going with her, who knows who I'll get to visit next? So what I'm trying to say is,"

My mom sat down next to me at the kitchen table with a glass of orange juice, staring into my eyes. "I think you should pursue her daughter Quinn. It'll be a complete win-win situation: You date the head cheerleader and I retain a great ally in the process. This would be a great opportunity for both of us, don't you think?"

Hearing my mother say this I felt a sense of dread, knowing I should tell her that it wasn't a good idea. Using someone to get ahead wasn't right and what was the point when you'd soon move on to the next person? I knew without Dad in the kitchen this was the perfect time to say that. But I froze up, and stayed silent.

Stevie came sprinting into the kitchen at that moment, running away from an enraged Stacie. She had a Barbie doll squeezed between her fingers, and I noticed that the doll's head was almost bald. I snickered, grabbing a piece of bacon off my plate and standing up to leave. Mom smiled before turning her head and scolding my siblings to stop the ruckus. I'm sure she's happy that I'm taking a road trip with her as well as pursuing Quinn Fabray, whoever that was.

Now, as my father came rushing into the kitchen, already ten minutes late mom jumped up to bustle him. She kissed him-to my utter horror- and fixed his tie, wishing him a good day at work. I brought my plate to the sink and ran some water on it. I looked back to my mother and saw her shaking her finger at Stevie, who appeared guilty but unashamed. I saw him walk over to Stacie and apologize, in which she accepted and they both went to go eat breakfast.

I was almost out the door when I heard them say goodbye and wondered that again, this was the perfect moment to go tell mom I didn't want to help her in her pursuit of climbing the social ladder. I started to go back down the hall, but I stopped myself. The kids were in there eating, I didn't want to interrupt. So I said goodbye and backed out of the hall, leaving the house.

* * *

><p>"Do you play any sports?"<p>

I was asked this question many times before, but never from complete strangers. It was in AP Physiology & Anatomy during third period that I was approached this way. The class hadn't started yet and students were still coming in the room, so most were up and talking to their friends. It was my second week at the school, and I still didn't have any friends to talk to. Puck, or that's what I heard his name was, came up to me once I sat down and started firing questions before I even got the chance to introduce who I was.

"No, I haven't signed up for anything yet. I'm Sam by the way." I said, just in case he got me mixed up with someone else.

"I know who you are, the whole damn building knows." He paused to roll his eyes. "Have you planned on showing the school that you're not just a pair of big lips? You have to play football; it's really the only way to redeem yourself."

_My lips weren't even that big… _"Why do I have to do that?"

"Because if you don't people are going to think you're gay. I mean, some already do." He said. "I thought you were myself until I saw you glancing at a few girls' asses."

It was particularly unnerving when a guy says that he's seen you stare at other people's butts. "But I don't care what people think."

"Uh uh, this is not the place to be acting like Edward Cullen." Puck said shaking his head. "That shit will get you _hurt. _No one wants to be considered gay unless you're Kurt."

"What about Kurt?" I asked my fists already balled.

My eyes narrowed at the mention of Kurt's name. Yes he was flamboyant and could be considered androgynous at times but that didn't make him gay. And even if he was, what right did someone like _Puck,_ for God's sake, have to treat him differently?

Puck took sight of my expression and his eyes widened. "Look man, I didn't come over here to piss you off. I just wanted you to join football."

Football wasn't on my mind at the moment though. Kurt was. "Have you been fucking with him?"

Puck started to shake his head, and I raised an eyebrow. "No, I swear-"

"Put that on something." I said. I could hear muttering going on around us as people were taking notice of our conversation. Still, I didn't care. This punk was going around with his dick friends terrorizing my only friend. Kurt told me about these guys, I just didn't think I'd get the chance to put faces with names.

"Alright, fine. My friends have messed with him." He relented. "But I never did anything to Kurt."

I sat back in my chair, staring Puck down. "Fuck you then."

He blinked. "What?"

"I said," I started a bit louder. "_Fuck you. _I'm not joining the football team."

"Wait!" He said. "I have a deal for you."

"Nope."

"Sam, just listen-"

"I don't want to hear it. We're done here." I told him.

"It involves Kurt."

I gave him a look. "Go on."

Puck sighed, sounding pained. "If you join the football team, I'll get the guys to leave Kurt alone."

"What's in it for you?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Our school's team has a better chance of going to State this year." He replied.

"But there is no guarantee that I'm good at football."

Puck nodded. "I know that, but it can't get worse then the losing streak we've been going through for the past three years."

"Okay. I'll do it."

"Good." He said.

"You better make good on that deal, Puck." I said as the teacher walked in the classroom, telling him to get off my desk.

"I will if you do." He responded as he hopped off my desk, walking away.

The fate of a whole team was a lot of pressure to be putting on one person, but I was up for it. I had the experience of going to state once even if the team I was on didn't win. That was a lot more than what Lima's football players could say. But as long as they quit bullying Kurt I was ready to help them to the best of my abilities.

* * *

><p>I walked into fourth hour not knowing what to expect from the other jocks. If they gave me any problems I'd definitely handle them, but that didn't mean I wanted to. A guy named Mike walked up to me when I was only a few steps past the threshold, talking excitedly about the guys and that they were ready to see my skills.<p>

"Puck told me you were joining the team." He said to me now.

"Yeah well, I have to try out first." I replied.

"Don't worry about that. As long as you can run you'll get on the team." He looked around before continuing. "And sometimes even then."

I nodded, half listening to him. I looked everywhere but Mike, trying to find a perfect escape route. To be honest, I was tired of talking and hearing about the football team. I was about to turn to face him when my heart almost stopped beating.

At first, I almost didn't recognize her. She was sitting at her desk with a bun on her head and her face clear of makeup or blemishes, just like all those years ago. Nothing about her had changed and I wondered that when she acknowledged me would she feel the same way. That was if she remembered. _She had to._

She leaned down to her backpack to retrieve something and when she came back up; her eyes were focused on me. It was startling at first that her eyes were automatically directed towards me but I didn't question it. I was too busy boring holes into her. I smiled and she returned the gesture before looking away and biting her lip. I waved so she wouldn't get the chance to let our interaction go. She waved back. I walked away from Mike at that point and to my desk, determined to talk to her once this class was over. It would be lunch soon, so I would have the perfect opportunity.

* * *

><p>By the time class was dismissed I contemplated if Mercedes was freaked out. Every chance I got I turned around in my chair to smile at her. When I wasn't doing that I was looking over my shoulder, almost as if I was checking to make sure she was still there and not just a figment of my imagination. I knew that I must have gotten annoying, but I couldn't help it. I hurried as I gathered my homework assignment and shoved it in my backpack. I walked briskly to the front of the classroom and waited for Mercedes. She was still at her desk, slinging her bag on one shoulder and pushing her chair in.<p>

"Hey stranger! How's life been?" I greeted her.

"Uh, I've been fine. What about you?" She was jingling her car keys in her hand and looking around nervously. I didn't know what that was about, but I wasn't that concerned.

"I was okay, but I'm better now." I furrowed my eyebrows suggestively and she giggled.

"My names Mercedes, what's yours?"

"Sam. I'm Sam." I replied as I followed her to her locker.

"Sam. Hmm…" Mercedes' said, her voice low. I felt my face heating up at the way she made it sound. Then it dawned on me.

"You're Kurt's friend!"

"Yeah, I'm 'Mercy' to him." She said, "So I guess we've already been introduced."

"Yeah, he's really something huh?" I said as I tried to keep the conversation going. Mercedes wasn't as talkative as I had hoped, but with time anything was possible.

She shook her head and chuckled. "Something _else _is more like it. How is tutoring with him? Is he annoying you?" As she opened her locker door a binder fell out and she crouched down to recover it.

I bit my lip. "He's _annoying,_" I started but trailed off when Mercedes came back up, staring at me._ She was so pretty. _

Her laugh filled the space between us. "Kurt is annoying, but you have to learn to ignore him most of the time. Unless he's teaching you something."

"Sam?" She said after a moment of silence from my part.

"How do you feel about tater tots?"

"Tater tots?" She repeated, "What?"

"You know," I said. "Potatoes deep fried in the shape of a tot. They're delicious."

Mercedes actually took a step back and gave me a look.

"So what do you say? Are you up for some?" I was saying.

"Up for what?" She asked.

"Some tater tots. "

"Now?" She said glancing at her phone.

"Did you already have plans?" I asked, praying that she didn't.

"Well, no, but-"

"Good. I'll take us to a diner I really like." And with that I grasped her hand in mine and walked towards the exit of the school.

* * *

><p><strong>Mercedes' POV (Present)<strong>

I was happy that I had an excuse not to use my car and get stares, but at the same time leery about getting in _any_ car with Sam. That tater tot question was leaving me suspicious about his sanity and I just didn't know about him. Everything was happening so fast, I barely had enough time to send Santana a quick apology for not eating lunch with her.

**Lololol, don't worry wheezy. You're with Trouty and that's what we wanted, right?**

**Yeah I guess. **It _was_ what I wanted, but leaving Santana like this left me worried.

**You better tell me all about it too. And if the opportunity presents itself, jump his bones.**

I rolled my eyes. **Oh my God, Santana.**

**What? **I almost saw her quirking an eyebrow at me. **Make Froggy put his big lips to some use.**

**I'm gonna pretend you didn't say that.**

Santana replied within seconds. **Pretending doesn't change anything.**

My fingers started typing out a response, but I stopped myself. I couldn't help but feel that maybe she wasn't talking about me. _What if she meant something else by that?_ I thought, but didn't mention it.

**We're getting in his car now so I gotta go. Love you bb.**

It took Santana two whole minutes before she answered, **Love you long time.**

The last time Santana used those words with me she was moving in permanently with her grandmother, and she was a living wreck. The beginning was hard, but we both knew it was for the best. Now I don't know if I should've convinced her otherwise. She was going on and heading off, leaving me like all those years ago. Seeing that sentence brought back memories of freshman year and how everything used to be. I thought of how we were back then, and how far we had come. I kept my eyes on that last text message as long as I could. At some point, though, I knew that the screen would go to sleep, leaving me peering into the dark.

* * *

><p>"So if you don't order tater tots in here, I'm pretty sure the manager will ban you from the place."<p>

I listened to Sam rave about this hole-in-the-wall diner, and strolled up the walk-way to the front door. The first thing I noticed about _Tastee Freeze_ was that it was easy to overlook. I've driven this way many times on my way to the gas station and never even looked over here. The tiny building was obviously old but from the looks of it, full of life. I could hear the stereo going, and the strong aroma of potatoes.

"Wow." I said.

"Yeah, it's pretty amazing right?" He asked.

"Right." I agreed. _Wrong, very wrong. _I worked too hard losing twenty pounds in the summer to gain it back with one sitting. Tater tots were my _weakness._

Unsurprisingly, the joint was packed, with what felt like little room to breathe. I looked up at the menu for a low carb option on the tater tots, but found none. Sighing, I continued to look at the menu and saw a milkshake I planned to order.

"What's the Monster Milkshake?" I asked as we came to a stop at the end of _Tastee Freeze's _busy line.

"Well," He began, glancing over at me. "First you have to know that it's not really called that."

I looked over at the people walking away with giant sized clear cups in their hands. "No?"

Sam shook his head. "Nope. It's original name was the Chocolate Champion milkshake. But at this point it the name 'monster' fits it well."

"Why?"

"Because you'd have to be a raging monster to eat the whole thing."

I thought for a bit. "Or Shane Tinsley?"

"Who?"

I shook my head. "Nevermind."

* * *

><p>Eating lunch with Sam was everything I imagined it to be. It was slighty awkward at first, but things picked up fast. He was funny and encouraging, but best of all he was easy to be friends with. He convinced me to eat a tater tot, and once it slipped past my lips I was hooked. The Monster Milkshake had me holding my stomach in pain after I made it halfway through, which humored Sam. He promised to take me out again since I liked the food there so much. <em>But only for the tots, <em>He said after I gave him a dirty look.

"You should call me som etime." He said now as we pulled up to the school parking lot.

"Okay." We exchanged numbers and I made a move to get out of the car.

"Hey." Sam said, staring right at me. "Seriously call me, okay? I want to hang out sometime."

I nodded, about to tell him I had a good time when I heard yelling. I turned my head to see what was going on, and my eyes immediately zoned in on my best friend shrieking at the one and only football star, Finn Hudson.

"Don't you _ever _lie on me! I _will _go Lima Heights Adjacent on your sorry ass, don't think I won't!"

"Oh God." I gasped, grabbing the door handle and pushing out of the Ford pickup.

"Wait," Sam said. "What are you-"

"I'm sorry. I have to... she's my friend." I explained and stepped out of the truck, closing the door behind me.

_Great, what did Santana get herself into this time?_

* * *

><p><strong>What do you think is going on? What do you think will happen during the Evans' weekend? Where does Quinn fit into all this? Comments, questions? Tell me! Review please!<strong>


	10. Calm before the storm

**Mercedes' POV (Present)**

Words floated toward me the closer I got to the scene of the crime. Santana was in Finn's face, yelling and shrieking things in Spanish I didn't understand. He looked completely unalarmed and, if anything, he seemed like he was about to laugh.

"…You just admit you're dating her?" His friends were gathered around him, and to my disgust I saw my summer fling, _Puck, _nodding in agreement. I stopped running in the direction of them, my hand flying up to my mouth. _Oh no._ Then he was speaking again.

"Or," He said. "Does she not know you're in love with her?"

Santana stepped away from him in shock. My thoughts immediately went to Brittany, and where in the world she was. People were rushing past me, trying to get up close to any additional drama that was sure to unfold. I tightened my hold on my bag and started to move forward again.

"…Leave her alone." I heard Santana say.

"Then tell the truth."

She shook her head. "I'm not gay." I noticed the way her voice cracked and swallowed hard. Santana doesn't sound like that unless she's about to cry. _Don't make a spectacle, _I told myself, _just get through that crowd and get to Santana. Fast. _My head was commanding my feet to move, but I was frozen in place.

"Don't lie!" Someone said from behind Finn.

I saw Finn reached out and grab her shoulder. Santana looked up at him before stretching her arms up to push him away. Her hands must have pushed him hard, because she practically knocked Finn off his feet.

"You faggot bitch." He spitted out once he righted himself. I could hear the crowd murmuring among themselves when he said that, followed by a security guard's voice warning them to cut it out. "Stay away from Rachel, got it?"

I was still standing there, waiting like everyone else for what would happen next. _Why couldn't I move? _I looked around for Kurt, or anyone else that was mortified by what was transpiring. The only thing I could see for several feet were the faces of fellow classmates snickering and egging on both parties. Some wanted Santana to go at Finn already while others were whispering to their friends that he should hit Santana since she was like a guy anyway.

She stepped forward and punched Finn in the face. From where I was I heard the smack of her fist connecting with his head. He stumbled backwards, colliding into someone behind him before crashing to the ground. All around the blur of faces people were laughing, talking, and mocking Finn for getting beaten by a girl half his size. I saw Santana turn around and walk away at a normal pace. She seemed totally unfazed, but I knew better.

My feet started to work at that point and I pushed past the bodies that formed a circle around Finn. I was halfway gone when I finally heard the noise of the security guard approaching. Everyone instantly scattered. I made sure to have a good view of which way Santana was going once I was away from the commotion. She was walking around the building and God only knew where she was going. I took out into an outright sprint trying to catch up with her. She didn't make it that far.

Santana sat against the brick wall of the athletic department, her arms wrapped around her knees. She was crying intensely and very loudly. Her shoulders were shaking and she was sobbing. I felt a hard pressure on my chest, wearing me down. It was painful seeing her like that. What hurt most, though, was that looking at Santana was like staring into a mirror. I couldn't help the burning that welled up in my eyes. I inhaled and squashed the feeling down, scolding myself to get it together. _It doesn't help if we're both crying._

I walked over to her. "Santana."

"Wheezy," She said. "Go away."

"No."

"Just leave. I don't wanna talk." Santana's arms sat on her knees, fencing in her face.

I nodded, slipping to the ground beside her. "We don't have to talk. But I'm not leaving."

She sniffed. I took that as an invitation to stay. After a while of sitting in silence I went through my bag and tried to find some Kleenex. It was wrinkled, but I found half a pack of tissues.

"Here." I said laying the Kleenex on top on her knees.

"Thanks." She grabbed a wad of the tissue and blew her nose before balling it up and throwing it somewhere.

I probably shouldn't have said anything about that, but it didn't stop the words from coming out. "That's littering, Santana."

"Shut up." She grumbled.

"Okay." I said.

We sat there for God knows long looking into the afternoon sun. I bit my lip thinking about the gossip that was sure to be surfacing in McKinley's halls. I couldn't walk back in there without whispers and Santana probably didn't want to go back, period. I heard the bell ring in the school building behind us. It was dismissing class for the last period to begin or dismissing school for the day. I didn't know.

Above the ringing, I heard Santana speak up. "I'm getting suspended for this."

"I know."

"And you're gonna get a truancy ticket for skipping." She added.

"I know." I said again.

"Do you want to go back in there?" She asked.

"No." I said. "Do you?"

"Hell no."

"I drove to school in the Rover." I told her after another brief silence.

She laughed. "Nice wheezy."

"Thanks."

She wiped at her eyes before fixing herself and looking at me. "I know you're pissed. Sorry."

The thing though was that I wasn't. I was just tired. "I'm not."

"I provoked Finn first, by the way. It's my fault this even happened." Santana fidgeted and sighed looking back out into the scenery.

"Santana, I don't care." I said.

She didn't seem to be listening. "And what really sucks is that I don't remember why I even started arguing with him. I try to think back to what happened before I punched him and I can't. It's all a blur."

"It always is." I muttered, rolling my eyes.

"Hey." She said shooting me a look.

"Sorry."

"I didn't mean to hit him." She went on, "But when he called me a gay I just lost it."

"What did you mean to do then?"

Santana ignored my question. "Finn's such a fucking asshole. He wasn't worth hitting, but man did he deserve it."

"Santana." I said.

"What? You know it's true."

"Still, you're gonna have to do community service for this. It's not like this is your first suspension."

"I know that," She said, offended. "God."

I sat there for a moment before linking my fingers with hers, which were slightly clammy, and gazed up into the sky. "This too shall pass."

Santana looked at me. "What's that from?"

"I dunno." I shrugged. "I think I read that in the Bible somewhere."

"The Bible," She said. "I think I'll have to read that sometime."

"You should."

She nodded."I think I will."

* * *

><p>I wasn't intending to go back in the school until next week but I left my homework in my locker. Santana shook her head disappointedly at me when I told her I was going to get my stuff, but I honestly didn't care. She took off in her car once we walked back to the parking lot and I waved goodbye to the retreating vehicle. Initially, I was nervous about going inside the building and somehow managing to get away without being dragged to the principal's office. But once I was at my locker and almost had all my supplies ready to go the nerves dissipated.<p>

"Mercedes."

I jumped, startled, and accidently slammed my locker door shut. "_Shit." _Heart pounding, I looked around to see who said that.

"Calm down, Mercy. It's me."

I breathed out a sigh of relief when I saw Quinn leaning up against a locker beside mine. "God, you scared me."

"Sorry." She said. "Where were you earlier? You weren't in sixth period."

I shook my head, zipping up my backpack. "It's a long story."

"Were you with Santana?" She asked.

I just looked at her. "Yeah. How'd you know?"

"Please, Mercedes." Quinn said. "You and her are always together."

"I guess."

"So," She started as I opened my locker again. "I heard about the fight."

"What did you hear?"

"That Santana punched Finn out."

I had to laugh. "Yup that's pretty much what happened."

"Well, how long is Santana suspended for?" She asked.

"I don't know. She left." I told her. I didn't know why I was giving Quinn this information when the last time we talked; she told me she was going back to the way things to use to be. She was through with me; our friendship was over just like her pregnancy was. But I guess after today's events, I was having a lapse of judgment.

"Oh. Is she okay?"

"Santana's as okay as she's gonna be. Considering the circumstances."

"Alright then." Quinn stared at me for a moment. "So my mom and I are coming over this weekend."

"Wait, what?" I asked, confused. "Why?"

"Mom wants to catch up with Mrs. Jones and there's supposed to be a surprise. Or so she says."

"But," I began, still confused. "Why would your mother want that? I mean, no offense, but after the election I thought…." I stopped myself shaking my head.

"I know." Quinn agreed. "The only thing I can say is that after our moms competed against each other, their friendship ended. One minute it's all fun and laughs, the next: nothing. It sounds kind of familiar, if you know what I mean."

I looked at her and flushed. Obviously she was talking about our friendship and how it ended.

"Look," She went on, "I think this weekend would be a great opportunity for us to converse like we used to. We should follow our parent's example."

_Why do you even care? _I wanted to ask. Maybe it was the lapse of reasoning, but I couldn't help the words from tumbling out. "I thought you didn't want anything to do with me."

Quinn winced. "I thought you might say that."

"You said it first."

"I was going through post-partum depression, Mercedes. Everything that I did or didn't do after the first year of having Beth I regret. _Everything. _I wish I didn't quit New Directions. I wish I didn't give my baby up for adoption. I wish I didn't give up my friends, but more than anything I wish I didn't give up _us._"

"You were the best friend I ever had." She said. "We were _soul sisters_ and I still consider us to be."

I crossed my arms, skeptical. "Why now though? You had the whole summer to contact me, but you never did. Not _once._" I could tell that Quinn was uncomfortable talking about this but I didn't care. I couldn't care, not when she didn't just a few days ago.

"It's complicated."

"Well un-complicate it, because I want answers."

She blinked in disbelief. I surprised her, as well as myself. I've never demanded anything from Quinn and now here I was, pressing explanations out of her. And I wasn't budging. I _deserved _this. "It'll take too long to say everything here. I'll tell you everything this weekend when I get the chance but hear me out, okay? I'm sorry."

Quinn took my hand in hers and squeezed. "I want things back to the way they used to be. I miss you."

"I miss you too."

"Are you willing to be friends with me again?"

"I don't know." I said, truthfully.

"That's okay, there's no rush." She dropped my hand. "Just know that I'll be here for you if you need me."

I nodded and she smiled before patting my shoulder and walking away. I watched her leave until she was completely out of view and before long the only presence occupying the hallway was mine. Like any other time I was by myself. Alone, always.

* * *

><p><strong>Sam's POV (Friday afternoon)<strong>

"So you were _there _when all hell broke loose?" Kurt asked me.

Originally when Mercedes high tailed it away from me after our lunch I thought it was something I did. Call me crazy, but even though Mercedes said it was her friend getting in the fight and that was why she left so abruptly, I didn't believe her. It was when I saw her stop running and stare on with a mortified look on her face that I knew she wasn't joking.

Her friend Santana, who Kurt just informed me about got into a fight with Finn. No one except the witnesses who were up close knew what was said, but everyone knows that Finn got his ass kicked. By a girl half his size, no less. It was safe to say that he was considered to be a punk now.

"Yeah," I was saying now. "But all I saw was that Finn guy getting punched and falling on his butt."

Kurt shook his head disappointedly. "All of this has me truly torn. Santana is one of my best friends, and I know she didn't hit him for no reason. What he said must've been really bad. But at the same time, Finn's my step brother and while he's a jerk, he's also my family." I nodded supportively.

"I want to get to the bottom of this, but I'm supposed to be tutoring you." He looked at me.

"Go ahead and call Mercy. I don't really need help right now anyway." I relented.

Kurt perked up. "Okay, but _only_ because you said so." I rolled my eyes as Kurt pulled out his phone.

"And don't think I didn't catch you using Mercedes' nickname." He said, to my chagrin. "But we'll talk about _that _later."

He put the phone on speaker. Mercedes picked up after only a few rings.

"Hello?" Again I flushed. _Why does that always happen when she starts talking? _

"Mercy, you know you have to fill me in on what happened." Kurt said.

I heard her sigh and mutter something. "Are you alone?" Kurt glanced at me.

"Yes." He said.

"Okay," She started. "Well you probably are aware of what mostly happened, but Finn said some really shady stuff about Tana."

"How bad?" He asked.

"Terrible bad." She replied.

"Well?"

"Finn called Santana a bitch-" Kurt gasped.

"Yeah, I know," Mercedes said, going on. "And told her to stay away from Rachel-like what could she have possibly done to the hobbit, anyway?- but yeah, basically that's all I was there to hear. The rest everyone knows about." I shook my head sympathizing and wondering how I was expected to play on a football team with those types of people.

"Oh my God," Kurt said. "I can't believe he would say that."

"Kurt this is Finn we're talking about here." She said flatly.

"But he's my stepbrother! How could he do that when he knows that's my best friend?"

"I dunno. All I know is that Santana is sure to get suspended, I have lost what little respect I had for Finn, and if this doesn't get resolved New Directions is screwed for Regionals."

"Regionals!" Kurt exclaimed, "I forgot all about that."

"Yup, and Regionals might forget us as well if we don't get our shit together." Kurt and her discussed their friend some more and I zoned out until I was brought up.

"Santana told me about you eloping with a certain someone during lunch earlier." Kurt said, as if I wasn't in the room. I gave him a warning glare.

"_Kurt._" Mercedes whined. "Don't do this to me."

"Nu uh uh." He teased, "You better tell me something."

I bit my lip, wondering if it was morally correct to be sitting there as she spoke to Kurt thinking that she had some privacy.

"It was great. He took me to this cute little diner and we had tots. _Freakin' _tater tots, Kurt! He must know all my weaknesses."

Kurt shot me a meaningful look. "Oh really?"

"Yes."

"How cute do you think he looked?"

"Please," She said. "Cute is not the word. _Rude _is more like it."

Kurt tilted back his head and laughed. My face felt like it was on fire.

"I'm serious. It's not right to look that good." If Mercedes thought it was wrong for me to look good, then she needed to look in a mirror. She was downright criminal.

"Sounds like someone wants a piece of Sam." I almost fell out of my chair. How could Kurt be saying this when I was _right there? _This kid really had no shame.

Mercedes hummed a bit before singing in a similar pitch to the original, "_I don't see nothin' wrong…"_

Kurt burst into laughter again. "You are _not _singing ."

Mercedes kept humming. "_With a little bump and grind..." _She stopped, laughing uncontrollably.

Oh wow. This girl might seem shy and innocent, but when she was with her friends she was someone else entirely. Although hearing Mercedes talk about us like this (to Kurt, for God's sake) was unnerving, I wanted to know this girl more. She was carefree, funny and down to earth.

"You oughta be ashamed of yourself, Mercy."

"Probably."

"So do you want to see him again?"

"Yeah I do. He's really sweet, Kurt. But-" She paused, sighing. I felt my heart rate pick up._ But what? _

"But what?" Kurt asked, voicing my thoughts.

"With everything going on, Santana and her drama, Glee club and its drama, plus my life and all that drama, where does Sam fit in? Even if he felt the same way, where do I find time to be with him?"

I didn't know Mercedes had all that stuff happening in her life. I liked her, but I wasn't going to stress her out when it was already bad enough. _Maybe I should back off for a while…_

"I understand. Don't rule him out yet, okay? We'll figure something out."

"That's not all though," She said. "_Quinn _talked to me today."

I remembered my mom's wishes with a feeling of uneasiness. From the tone of Mercy's voice I could tell this girl was trouble.

Kurt shook his head distressfully. "Oh gosh, what's this ham up to?"

"She came up to me today after the madness had happened, talking like she really cared about me and New Directions. She was saying she missed her friends, and that she missed me most of all."

"Well of course she'd say that!" Kurt said scoffing. "You're the one that took care of her sorry ass!" I blinked, taken aback. Kurt's never cussed in front of me before, even when he was frustrated enough to do so_. Just how bad was Quinn?_

"I don't know what to think about her, Kurt. I almost agreed with her."

"You miss her too." Kurt said, clarifying.

"Yeah. I can't help it."

"You know how I feel about this girl, Mercy. So just be careful. Even though we fight, I love you and I don't want you to get hurt. I can say that most of our friends feel the same way, but I can't say the same thing about Quinn." Soon Kurt was saying his goodbyes to Mercedes and I was left in shock over the newfound information about a person I didn't know but was supposed to pursue. I wanted to ask questions, but I was too much of an outsider to be in their business. For now.

"I'm going on a road trip with my mom this weekend." I said randomly. Kurt looked at me like I was crazy, so I went on. "It's something she wants me to do, but I have a really bad feeling about it."

"Why?" He asked confused.

"It's her way of climbing some sort of food chain. She's trying to up her social status among her friends, and I don't want to take part of it." There. The thing I've wanted to say for hours was finally out in the open. Now that it was here, I couldn't stop myself from saying more.

"But, if I refuse to help her, she'll be upset."

"You don't want to do it though." Kurt said. "Correct?"

"Correct."

"Then tell her that."

"I can't." I said.

"You can't?"

"No."

"Can I be honest with you?" Kurt asked.

"Yeah."

He put down his phone and stared right into my eyes. "Quit breast feeding from your mother."

"_Excuse me?_"

"Get your lips off your mom's tits." He said. "Stop letting your mom pimp you out, man up, and put a stop to it."

I looked at him, too in shock to speak.

"Mercedes needs a real love in her life. Not a pretender that's gonna leave her wondering if she did something wrong because you can't stop sucking your mother's nipples."

"Okay, this analogy is starting to freak me out." I said.

"I'm just saying." Kurt shrugged. "It's gonna be hard, but you can do it. "

"How do you know?"

"Well you just told me, right? Just say to her what you told me."

"It's not that simple," I started. "She's gonna-"

"Doesn't matter." He interjected. "Nothing is ever simple. So go for it. Say what you mean. Spit it out."

I could feel myself about to smile. "Alright, I'll try. Thanks."

"Think of Mercy when you do it. She's the perfect motivation."

* * *

><p><strong>Quinn's POV<strong>

My eyes shifted around the parking lot as I looked for my mother. She was far away from me as possible, almost not even in the parking lot. I made my way over to the car, slipping in without a glance from mom. "I talked to Mercedes today."

We sat in silence after I relayed today's events.

"Good." She said. "Make sure you buddy-buddy up with her tomorrow. You said her friend got in a fight?"

I nodded. "Yes. Her friend is sure to get suspended, which I'll bring up in front of Mrs. Jones tomorrow."

She smiled at me. "You do that darling, and I'll make sure to express my 'concerns' for her daughter's wellbeing. Can't have her hanging around that Hispanic trash, can we?"

I bit my lip. Mom never said anything about ruining Mercedes' friendships. "Of course not." I said.

"By the time we're done with Clarice, she won't know what hit her." Mom lit up a cigarette, sucking in and blowing smoke out through her nose in a circle of gray. She drove away from the parking lot, accelerating onto a busy street and turning on her blinker.

"She should've never been elected. But that's fine, because Clarice has a secret that's gonna blow people's minds. They're gonna regret giving a job to someone who doesn't deserve it."

I felt apprehensive hearing my mother talk about it. I didn't want to talk about it.

"It's high time we stopped trying to keep up with the Jones'." Mom declared.

* * *

><p><strong>What happened to everyone? It's like all my reviewers disappeared. If you don't like something, or have a commentquestion, don't hesitate to tell me! Please review!**


	11. Calm before the storm pt 2

**Sam's POV (Saturday Morning)**

The next morning my house was full of chaos. Mom was shoving things at me to put in the GT Cruiser, while I stood in the middle of the living room bearing the burdens. Dad opted not to go and I held no judgment against him. He could at least help with all the packing though. Stevie and Stacie weren't going either, because mom didn't want to spend all her time at the Senator's house running after them. I wish I was still ten years old so I would have a get-out-of-jail-free card. I already packed the car with a small duffel bag full of clothes, toiletries and comics. As far as I knew we were only staying the night, but in mom's world we might as well have been going on vacation.

"We're supposed to be meeting Margret and Quinn at their house in Lakeview." Mom said, looking at her phone.

"Okay."

She glanced over at me and my nonchalant expression. "Sam, baby, there's no way Quinn's going to take a second look at you with the face you're making."

"Sorry." I tried to smile, but by mom's reaction it was probably closer to a grimace.

She walked over to me and smoothed out the collar of my shirt. "Don't worry about this weekend, okay? It's going to go smoothly."

"Okay." I replied although I wasn't worried in the slightest.

"Now," Mom said, "You know the drill. Be the perfect gentleman I raised you to be. As long as you do that, Quinn will fall for you with no trouble. You two are going to be so cute together. Oh isn't this exciting!"

I shrugged.

She frowned at me. "Watch your attitude."

By noon I assumed we would already be on our way to the Fabrays, but of course we weren't. "God, we're already late! Sam, grab my purse." Mom came jogging into the foyer, ready to leave at last. She looked the part of a suburban wife: hair piled on top of her head with a beaded pin placed just so, white skirt and soft pink top. I knew next to nothing about girls and their habits, but it didn't appear to me that she should've taken so much time getting ready. But because my mom was in a rush, suddenly so was I. My hands snatched her purse from the kitchen table and I was out the door within seconds.

"Thank you honey." She said once I got in the car and placed the bag on the console between us.

"Welcome."

We were on and off the interstate in minutes. I watched cars zoom past us as we got to the exit. The houses that I saw in the immediate vicinity tore my breath away. Lakeview seemed equivalent to the Promised Land. Everyone's bank accounts must be flowing like milk and honey in order to live in these houses. I didn't know the Fabrays, but I could infer that they were rich. No doubt. Mom's cell started ringing then, and I dove into her purse to grab it before it could ring twice. _Thank you _she mouthed to me as she got on the phone with whoever it was. I suspected Mrs. Fabray. "Hey girl!" Mom greeted her friend.

"Really?" She asked, switching her phone to the other ear. "Oh goodness."

We were caught in traffic to my annoyance. I tried to get my spirits up as we inched forward in line and came closer to the Fabray's neighborhood. In truth my mind was somewhere else. My head was playing around with the name Clarice Jones. Mercedes' last name was Jones, but I didn't think that they were related. _Jones was a common name, right?_ I bit my lip pondering this. Mercedes Jones. Senator Jones. Mercedes Jones, Clarice Jones. _Hmm._

"That'll be a sweet surprise for her daughter." Mom said as someone in a Prius cut her off. _Daughter? _I thought. _The senator had a daughter? Was that Mercedes? _My leg started bouncing eagerly.

"Alright, well we're coming up on the gate right now." Mom lied. We were still in the heat of traffic, and I craned my neck to see what was causing the holdup.

"Okay. I'll call you when we get there." She said as we got in sight of a stoplight.

* * *

><p>"Look at their house Sam! Isn't it lovely? Just think of what the senator's house must look like in comparison! You remember what I told you?" Mom said wiping some excess lipstick of her mouth and picking at her nails.<p>

"Yes mom, I remember."

The Fabray's home was everything that I expected it to be. Large, painted a light tan with fancy white shutters and dark green grass underneath it. The roof was a tinged red and I wondered if this was just one of the Fabray's homes. Cars were displayed on the driveway even though a four door garage was within walking distance. Obviously this was all for appearance purposes. Even the flowerbed looked like it matched. The sprinkler system was on, spraying the weird matching flowerbed and near shrubbery. Their house almost didn't seem real to me, like it was something you saw in cartoons and doll houses but never imagined to actually exist. I was half expecting a white picket fence. I took a deep breath and got out. I started up the walkway and chanted in my head to stay focused. _No matter what Quinn says, give her a chance. For mom's sake._ We stood on the driveway waiting for Margret and Co. to show up. Mom worked on smoothing out her skirt. I worked on smiling appropriately.

"Hello, hello!" Mrs. Fabray (I'm assuming) said when she spotted mom, heading over to give each of us a hug. My nose wrinkled at the pungent perfume she was bathed in. Her blonde hair was in complicated curls, her makeup was basic, and she wore a yellow sundress that was knee length. What stood out most to me was the lipstick she had on, it was way too red. It reminded me of a clown honestly.

"How was your trip over here?"

"Good." Mom said slowly, looking around the property once more.

I glanced at the front entryway and saw a girl standing there staring at me. She had blonde hair, a great shape and a pretty face. Her blonde hair was straightened with a white headband holding it back and she was wearing a plain blue polo top and jean shorts. Her tall stature framed an average guy's teenage dream. She must have been Quinn. I wasn't going to lie, this girl was gorgeous. But that was the thing.

She wasn't beautiful. Beautiful. The word reminded me of lunch at _Tastee Freeze _with a girl I already liked, a girl who wasn't perfect but made every moment with her that way. That girl's eyes were brown like leaves in the autumn and she had a body with enough curves to lose yourself in, that you wanted to be lost in. Granted I didn't know Mercedes or Quinn that much. I couldn't really describe it, but Quinn wasn't beautiful. Looking at her in the afternoon sun was enough to prove that.

She walked over to her mother and smiled showing her pretty white teeth. "Hello."

"Hi." I said.

I felt mom's gaze on me, so I tried to start a conversation. "I'm Sam."

She nodded. "I know. I'm Quinn."

So much for conversation. I glanced at my phone. It was 1:45. "We should get going."

Quinn looked at our mothers chatting. "We should, but they seem busy. Do you want to bother them or should I?"

"I don't want to." I replied.

"Well," She was saying in a small voice. "I'll do it then."

Wait, mom wouldn't want me having her do the dirty work. "No," I said turning toward our mothers already. "It's okay. I'll do it."

"Mrs. Fabray? Excuse me but, if we don't leave now we won't get to the senator's by two-thirty."

She studied me for a moment. "Are you saying that we should leave?"

"Um," _Duh._ I fidgeted. "Yes we should if-"

Her eyes lit up and she began to laugh. "Calm down, boy! I was just playing with you."

I laughed along hesitantly as mom and Quinn grinned. "Come now, everyone! Let's leave." Mrs. Fabray said while instructing me to carry her and Quinn's luggage to the cruiser. I rolled my eyes and prayed to God that this weekend would go by fast.

* * *

><p>Margret Fabray was creepy. I didn't know how else to put it, she just was. The moment we got seated back in the cruiser and departed for the senator's house she was questioning me. Her questions started off rightfully curious, but after the first ten minutes it became uncomfortable. Quinn looked completely unfazed by her mother's actions which I'm supposing she was used to.<p>

"You mother says you don't like McKinley?" Margret asked.

"That's not what I said." I started, "I just haven't been in the community long enough to have an opinion about it."

"What about the people there then?" She responded. "Do you like them?"

"I like the ones I've met and talked to so far."

"What kind of people are those?" She asked.

What type of question was _that? _My eyes darted to my mom who was driving. She found me staring at her in the rearview mirror and chuckled. "Those who are nice and aren't judgmental."

"Are you smitten with anyone yet?"

"Mom," Quinn said looking at me and my flushed face. "I think you're freaking him out."

"Oh, I'm sorry! I'm just so interested in Sharron's handsome son!" Margret smiled and reached from the passenger's side to pat my hand.

"I'm fine." I lied, feeling the need to wipe where her hand had touched.

We rode without speaking for a few minutes. Mom saw something notable and pointed it out to Margret, and like that they were talking again. It didn't take much for them to converse. I think that they were debating over certain boutiques in Lima's shopping areas. Bleh.

I turned to Quinn. "Thank you." I said softly.

She waved her hand in dismissal. "Don't worry about it. She gets like that sometimes."

"Okay."

"How come I haven't seen you around school?" She asked after a moment of silence.

"I don't hang around a lot of people."

"You hang around Puck though." She stated.

"No I don't." I replied.

"You don't?"

"No."

"But," She said shaking her head confused, "He said you're joining the football team."

Ugh. Not this again. "He's right, I am. But I don't hang around him. We've only talked once."

"Good." Quinn said.

"Why is that good?"

"Well," She began, "Puck and I have had our ups and downs."

I didn't say anything; I was waiting for more details.

"He's not a good person. He's manipulative and you can't trust a word he says." She added.

"I don't know him." I said, even though this didn't mean anything. I didn't know Quinn either.

"Take my word for it. Puck isn't any good."

"Okay." I kept saying that. _Okay. _I took my phone out of my pocket and checked to see if Mercedes had texted me. I knew she hadn't, I would have felt my phone vibrate. I sent her a quick message. _Hey (:_

As I waited for a reply, I took a glimpse of Quinn. She was twirling a piece of hair between her fingers and observing things outside the window. _Don't trust him_, she said. I looked back at my phone contemplating this. _Did that mean I could trust her?_ I didn't know if I can trust a girl with a mother like hers. It was wrong of me to make a judgment of Quinn based on her mom but there was something off about both of them. I didn't know.

* * *

><p><strong>Mercedes' POV (Saturday morning)<strong>

I awoke with a jolt at the sound of something crashing. I sat up in bed, cross-eyed. My mom had come home late last night so I knew someone was in the house that wasn't a burglar. Hopefully. It took a few minutes before I adjusted to the morning light and my heart stopped it's drumroll in my chest. The radio down the hall was on full blast and I heard a shower going. I sat up in bed, rubbing my eyes.

"What…" I croaked, seeing my mother crouched down in my closet across the room.

"Oh honey!" She said cheerfully. "You weren't supposed to wake up, I was gonna make pancakes and…"

Mom trailed off, rummaging through my hangers. I heard something clatter to the floor again. "Darn! You have cute clothes I don't ever see you wear Mercy. Shame."

_You're never here, _I almost replied. Wait a second, if mom's in here then… "Who's in the shower?" I asked.

Mom flinched visibly. "That was supposed to be a surprise, too. Damn. Everything's ruined now."

"Mom," I said slipping out of my bed. "Who's using the shower in your room?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Mom."

"Mercedes, dammit I will not be interrogated by my own daughter." She was using her mom voice.

I eyed her. She looked sleepy, her clothes were disheveled and so was her hair. The only time I've seen mom like this was when dad was around. Mom and dad acted like newlyweds, which has always been gross. My heart pounded at the possibly of him being in the house.

"Is dad home?" I asked standing in front of her.

She turned around swiftly on velvet house shoes and walked out of my room. "Breakfast will be ready in thirty minutes!" She called from behind my bedroom door.

Once calmed down a bit, I flicked off the light in my closet and walked over to the nearest window. My eyes were trained on the backyard. Down below I saw the pool and chairs and appliances no one ever touched. We had a huge overhang keeping the lawn furniture cool. If dad was home, maybe we could make use of the stuff my parents worked so hard for.

In twenty-five minutes I took a shower, got dressed, and was applying makeup. I didn't want to go downstairs and ruin whatever 'surprise' mom was setting up for me, so I just waited for her to call me to breakfast. I walked to my futon and sunk down into it, listening to the sounds of my household. The radio was still on and I heard padding against the carpet of the hallway. The noise started out loud and became softer as whoever it was walked away.

After sitting around for a moment I reached for my phone and looked at my notifications. I had a message from Santana telling me not to worry if she didn't call today because she was spending time with her cousins, and a picture message from Kurt asking if his new blazer was cute. _Of course, _I replied before frowning at the messages in my inbox. Or lack thereof.

_What the heck? _I thought shaking my head. _Why would you ask for someone's number and not even text them? _I didn't know what to expect from Sam, but I wasn't anticipating going unnoticed. We've only talked once, however, I thought there was something more between with us. I wasn't going to text him first though. No way was _I _going to be the annoying clingy one. If he didn't care then I didn't care.

"Mercy? Meer-cy!" I heard mom's laughter above the ringing on the intercom.

I pressed the speaker button. "Yes?"

"Breakfast is ready! Come on down and receive your extravagant feast, as well as a surprise!" Mom called out. _Oh geez_. Still as I made my way downstairs, my cell long forgotten, I couldn't help the nervous jitters in my stomach_. Dad was here. He was here, he was home and now we could eat together as a family, even if it was only for a little while. _

"There she is!" I heard my father call from the kitchen. And as if turning on a switch, I felt the burning behind my eyes. I knew it would only be a few more seconds before I was crying. I ran the rest of the way to my dad's arms.

"Hey, we got to stop greeting each other like this." Dad said in my ear as I cried into his chest. He smelled like I always remembered: laundry detergent, coffee, and cologne. I agreed with him. I needed to stop crying every time I saw my dad, but I couldn't help myself. Nothing compared to having both parents around on a Saturday morning.

* * *

><p>"How's school been lately?" Mom asked as I helped her clean the dishes. The past few hours have been going so well that I wondered if I should rock the boat bringing up Santana. I thought against it. Mom wasn't fond of her, and I wasn't going to make her forbid me from having any contact with her.<p>

"Uh," I was replying as I scrubbed a saucepan. "Quinn tried talking to me yesterday."

Mom murmured her disapproval. "Are you going to be friends with her again?"

"I don't know." I bit my lip, urging myself to go on. "I keep going back and forth between giving her another chance and just letting it go."

Mom rinsed a plate and turned to look at me. "God forgive me for saying this," She started, "But that little women was a real bitch to you Mercy. And after everything you did for her, she shouldn't even have the audacity to look in your direction."

"So you're saying I shouldn't give her another chance." I deduced.

"I'm telling you to be careful. Don't trust that girl, not until she proves herself tenfold." She said.

I heard dad mute the TV. "Are you talking about the Fabrays?"

I flushed. _Here we go. _"Yes dad, but-"

"No honey, your mother's right." His voice carried over from across the house. _But I never disagreed _I felt the need to say.

"I know that they'll be over soon," He went on. "But that doesn't change the truth. The Fabrays are screwed up. If Margret was any kind of mother than maybe her daughter wouldn't have gotten pregnant at sixteen. To make matters worse, she kicks Quinn out because she might make her look bad. And then my poor baby girl gets the boot once Quinn gets back in Margret's good graces? No, they're both chicken shit."

Mom nodded and started to put her two cents in. "Maybe if Mr. Fabray decided to make an appearance in their lives more than once a year Quinn wouldn't behave like she does."

"Dad's not here most of the time, though." I pointed out.

"Watch your mouth." He said his voice a warning. I shook my head and kept drying the plates.

"Don't get me started on how Margret acted during the campaign!" Mom said even though no one was talking about that. But this was a conversation starter, and soon she and dad were talking about the people we'd have spending the night in only a few hours.

* * *

><p>I went back upstairs, where I now had the whole second floor to myself. My eyes darted to a clock. It read 2:00. So I didn't have much longer until I'd be face to face with one of my problems. After standing around a bit examining the walls I heard my phone beeping from my room. I picked it up from the futon, scanning the screen. I had a new text message from Sam. <em>Freaking finally, <em>I thought.

**Hey (:**

I leaned in closer to the phone. I repeated the word over in my head. It was just 'hey'and a smiley face, but I couldn't help the butterflies that fluttered in my stomach. I sat down on my bed.

**Hey (: What are you doing?**

Before I could put the phone down and try to still my trembling, he replied.

**I'm going over to an important person's house. **

**How important is this person? **I asked.

Sam could type out answers fast. **She's the senator. **

I took my finger off the phone. _Sam was coming over? Since when? Why? _I had so many questions for him, but settled for texting, **That's funny.**

**How is that funny? **He asked.

**Well, my mom's a senator. **

I think I waited thirty seconds before I had an incoming call. "Hello?"

"Your mom's Clarice Jones?" He didn't waste time.

"You sure know how to greet a girl." I said. Inside I was nervous as all get-out, and my fingers were wobbly holding onto the phone but my voice was the picture of calm.

"Oh." Sam said, and I could almost see him lost in thought.

"Sam?"

"Let me try again?" He asked in a deeper octave.

I almost dropped the phone. This was the first time I've heard Sam sound like this. "Sure."

"Hello, Mercedes?" Sam begun and he still sounded like _that._ "Can I ask you a question?"

I breathed in unison with the pounding of my heart. "Yes."

"Is your mother Senator Jones?"

I released the lip that was captured between my teeth. "Yes."

"Okay then." He said.

"So you're staying the night?" I asked, just to be sure.

"I'm staying the night, Mercy."

"Who said it was okay for you to use my nickname?" I asked stretching out on my bed. The setting of my whole entire room changed. My God, how could it not? Sam was spending the night at my house; he was going to be within _reach! _Not like I'd actually be able to do anything considering that my father was in the house. Not like I would anyway, I mean, I didn't know the guy. _Oh God. _

"Don't pretend that you don't like it." If that didn't sound overly-sensual than I was caught up in a fantasy. With how Sam made me feel by texting 'hey' I probably was.

After the initial conversation was over we talked about nothing in particular. And because both of us didn't want to get off the phone we sat in comfortable silence. I hummed a song while playing with my bedspread.

"What's that?"

"Nothing." I replied glancing at the clock awaiting his arrival.

"Sing it for me?"

"Maybe later, Sam."

"Why not now?" He said his voice persuasive and smooth. "I'm bored in this car, and it's not like I haven't heard you sing before."

"I don't know." I mumbled.

"Have mercy on me, Mercy." He pleaded. "I might die from boredom if you don't sing for me."

I laughed. "Alright, but only because you'll die otherwise."

"It's sad that's your only motivation."

"Don't push it." Sam got quiet fast.

"_One summer night," _I sang, turning my head and looking out the window. "_We ran away for a while..._"

"_Laughing, we hurried beneath the sky to an obscure place to hide, that no one could find._" As I sung for Sam I could hear his steady breathing on the other end of the line. It was comforting knowing his undivided attention was on me. I felt empowered, important.

"_And we drifted to another state of mind,_" I crooned, almost humming. "_And imagine I was yours and you were mine as we lay upon the grass there in the dark, underneath the stars._"

I worked through the second verse and its chorus focused on nothing but singing as sweetly as possible and Sam's breathing. It was when I reached the bridge that I floated to a place only music could take me. "_Beautiful and bittersweetly you were fading into me and I was gently fading into you." _

My ears picked up on Sam sighing contently. "_But the time went sailing by, reluctantly we said goodbye, and left our secret place so far behind."_

"_And I lay in bed all night and I was drifting, drifting, drifting." _I realized how romantic this song was. It was like I was serenading him. "_Imagine I was yours, and you were my own baby. As we lay, underneath the stars_."

When I finished I heard Sam clearing his throat. "Your voice is better than what I remembered. It's was beautiful, Mercy."

I beamed at his words. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"Look," He was saying now. "We're pulling up in the neighborhood. I'll see you in a few, okay?"

"Okay." I replied halfheartedly. Of course I didn't want to get off the phone with him.

We said our goodbyes and I waited anxiously for him to arrive. I realized that there were others with him, and God knew I couldn't forget about Quinn and the drama that she would bring, but I wasn't thinking about that. For now I was thinking about Sam and how he made me feel, and how he treated me. Beautiful.

* * *

><p><strong>What did you think? Do you think Quinn has Sam's best interest at heart? Would you trust her? Did you like Mercedes singing to Sam? Was it cheesy? Any critique, comments or questions, don't hesitate to tell me! Thank you all very much for the reviews last chapter, and please review this one!<strong>

***I don't own **_**Underneath the Stars **_**by Mariah Carey. (If anyone has a song they would like me to try and incorporate into the story leave me the title and artist in a review)**


	12. What's going on?

**Mercedes' POV (late afternoon)**

"Mercy!" I heard the intercom in my room shout, "The guests are here! Come on, come on!"

I dozed off between being on the phone with Sam and waiting for his arrival. He said they would be there soon but how long ago was that? I got up from my bed and licked my lips. They were here, _he _was here. But that also meant Mrs. Fabray and her daughter were around too. Great. There wasn't any real answer to my mother's summoning other than a cough and shuffling my feet. I reached the last level seeing mom and dad facing the group of people at the front door. From where I was I saw vividly the white-blonde hair of Mrs. Fabray, and her blood lips moving quickly.

"Your house is lovely as ever, Clarice! And Donnel, I hope your flight went smoothly." She said.

Mom nodded. "Thank you."

Dad repeated the gesture. "My flight was fine. It was slow, but nothing could've got me to my family fast enough."

Mom bumped the door open wider with her hip, then Margret and the rest of our guests came inside. I walked over, standing next to my parents and felt Sam staring at me. At least I thought I did. When I turned to glance at him, his eyes were on the walls around us.

I knew what he was doing. He was staring at the amount of space before him. People always did. There were columns, two stories (not counting the game room attic like space above my parent's room), an elevator and a view that stretched as far as you could see. Our walls were a dark shade of blue, and the furniture was white. There were paintings of late relatives adorning our walls as well as paintings of the relatives that still lived. They were portraits really, because the further you went back the worse condition of pictures. So Mom had some guy use water color and pastel to take the place of photographs. Soon my parents would be on these walls. Then me.

Quinn beamed at my parents before going over and wrapping me up in a hug. "I've missed coming to your house. It's better than what I remember."

She looked and smelled the part of a Barbie doll. This was how I liked to remember Quinn: warm, happy, smiling, in love, glowing. It was reminiscent of going back to all those other times when she came over. Scratch the baby bump though. I half expected her to pull out some homework and ask me what we were having for dinner.

I felt Margret staring so I returned the embrace. "Really?" I asked.

She squeezed me tighter. "Of course."

I looked at a woman dressed in a pink top and white skirt. "Hi."

"Hello beautiful! I know we haven't met. I'm Sharron Evans, Sam's mom." She stepped up to me, shaking my hand.

"Okay. Nice to meet you Mrs. Evans."

"Your home is absolutely magnificent." She said.

"Thank you," I replied. "We're blessed."

Mrs. Evans smiled. "It's good to see a teenager with such a good head on her shoulders."

Mom waved her over and soon the three women were conversing like old friends. Dad shifted nervously on his feet. He was left out of the trio of women, and now was left with us. I saw him look at Sam eagerly.

"I guess we're the only men in this house right?" He asked.

Sam nodded. "I guess so."

"Have a fun road trip with the three other females?"

"Not really." Sam said.

Dad laughed. "Honesty. I like that in a young man."

"Thanks."

"Did you have to be persuaded to come along with your mother?"

"Well," Sam blushed. "I-"

He shook his head. "Don't let me down already, Sam. Tell the truth and shame the devil. No real man-married or otherwise-would agree to get in a car with that many girls at once."

Sam nodded, obviously not sure how to respond to this. I mentally face palmed. It was just like Dad to do this. Dad clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Let's rally these women up. I'll give you a tour of the house with everyone else while Quinn and my baby get the barbeque ready."

"Dad!" I whined and Quinn giggled. I elbowed her then she laughed even harder. Mom and the other adults were still having the chat of their life.

"That's what I'm talking 'bout!" I heard mom say, then bump Sharron with her shoulder. They laughed, and the conversation jumped to another topic. As happy as they seemed, I kept an eye out for Margret. You never knew what she would do next.

My father must have felt the same way because he wrapped an arm around mom's waist, protecting her from words that haven't been said yet. Mom reached out and grasped dad's hand, still talking. This was their reminder that whatever they were about to go through it would be together. She wasn't alone, and neither was he. At least for the weekend.

* * *

><p>Dad and mom were giving our guests a tour of the house and showing them to their rooms for the night while Quinn and I prepared the barbeque. The entire evening I've been overlooking her. I focused on the ribs, or making hamburger patties. I assumed that being around Quinn in a normal environment without glaring at her would be hard. But, after a moment of adjusting to the reality of things and getting my nerves in check, I realized that it was soothing.<p>

Quinn was nostalgia personified: when we hung around each other back in the day, my parents were in the house a lot more than they are now. Almost like history repeating itself, my family was here like she was. I wanted to believe that things could go back to the way they once were. Maybe I'd get what I wanted.

"Are you happy to see me Mercedes?" She was asking me now.

"What?"

"Are you," Quinn reiterated as she shook some seasoning on a chicken. "Happy to see me?"

"I don't know." I exhaled slowly. "Honestly? I can't say that I was completely ecstatic when you got here, but now it's like-"

"Old times?"

From upstairs, I heard laughter. "Exactly."

We worked in silence for a few moments before I heard Quinn cough. "Well," She said chopping up a whole onion. "What did you want to ask me?"

I didn't know where to start, so I started with the main issue. "Why didn't you try to talk to me during the summer? If you really want to be friends like you say, why now?"

I thought that Quinn was expecting me to ask her this. But based on the silence that followed, she wasn't. She bit her lip and finally spoke. "My mother is very controlling. You know this, Mercy. Last summer was full of nothing but trailing behind her and making nice to her colleagues. I was busy being the perfect child. I have enough experience to be called that, anyway."

"You didn't have enough time to pick up the phone and call me?"

"No I didn't, actually." She replied. "Besides I thought a face to face encounter would be better."

"So what about everything else?"

"I hate to keep blaming things on my mother," She started. "But it's her fault. I can try and become friends with you again because now my mother wants to be friends with your family again. It's a win-win situation. And as far as making new friends go, they're not friends. They're acquaintances. Don't believe everything you see me doing Mercy."

That was the problem. I didn't know what to believe. It sounded so real that there was no way she could be lying. Yet still I couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. "Okay then so what are your mother's intentions? With my mom, I mean."

"I told you already. We want to make nice. Mom knows she should've never let an election get in the way of true friendship. Like me, except I let my post-partum rule my decisions."

I went back to flattening hamburger patties, not saying anything.

"I didn't come to someone I knew would help me." She went on, "I ran away. I'm sorry."

I was embarrassed suddenly, to realize that I had a lump in my throat. I swallowed. "I needed you." I said instead of accepting her apology. "My parents were gone so much and I was alone. I thought you were the only thing I had left. But you weren't. I had nothing."

"Wait, what?" She asked. "What about your parents?"

"They weren't around as much. They still aren't. Why?"

"No reason." Quinn replied._ Weird_. "Just know that I am sorry Mercedes."

I put foil over a pan full of potato salad. "It's time you show it Quinn."

She nodded, holding a container of chopped vegetables. "We'll see were this goes right?"

"Right." I agreed. "Hey, I think we're ready to grill."

She smiled before helping me bring the food outside. We set up the table and turned on the grill, heating it up. The cold stuff had to be handled a certain way, but we did it together. Cooking with her was like I remembered: bumpy and crazy at first, but worth the risk.

"Don't think I didn't see the way Sam was staring at you earlier." Quinn said giving me a look. We were done making the table look cute and getting supplies ready. I was reclining in one of the chairs and sipping fruit punch when she mentioned this.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

She reached over and flicked my arm. "I don't appreciate getting lied to Mercedes."

"We're friends." I told her.

"_Just _friends?" She asked.

Her emphasis on certain words was annoying the crap out of me. But I bit my tongue. "Friends. Nothing else."

"Sam's awfully cute." She said.

"And?"

"He seems like a good guy."

"And?" _What was she getting at?_

"He's pretty much the best guy I've ever met without knowing anything about."

"Then why don't you date him?" I snapped. "He seems like your type."

"And what's my type, Mercy?" Quinn retorted.

"Attractive, nice, sweet, perfect. A guy that people like me never get."

She shook her head and took a sip of water, while looking straight ahead. Of course, I was the bad guy here. "You're being ridiculous."

"Am I?"

"Yes, you are. You're beautiful."

"Quinn-" In my pocket I felt my phone vibrating. I looked at the inbox, seeing that Santana had been trying to contact me nonstop for the past ten minutes. _Can't talk, can't text. I'm with my family right now. I'll call you later, _I texted her without checking the messages. I didn't know what was going on with Santana, but considering that she was with her cousins, it couldn't be serious.

* * *

><p><strong>Sam's POV (evening)<strong>

"Here we are!" Donnel Jones said, glancing back at us. "See? This is the theater."

I saw or better yet, tasted, as my mouth was hanging open. "Wow."

"It's not as big as it looks," Clarice Jones said. Behind me I heard my mother gasping. I just stood there staring at this huge, Cinemax theater in front of me. Maybe it wasn't big enough to seat a hundred people, but it came damn close.

It was a huge incredibly dark place with velvet drapes and speakers that could probably roar. The walls were lined with various implements of movie history: Spiderman posters, plastic swords that looked like they came right of _Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon, _Superman stand up cardboard cut-outs, and the works. This looked like my dream more than a theater. But I couldn't stay and fantasize, we were walking away.

"So this is the second living room," Mrs. Jones was saying as we went up the nearby spiral staircase. "The master suite is upstairs, as well as Mercy's room, and the rest of the bedrooms are on the first floor."

"How many bedrooms are in the house?" My mom said cheerfully, politely.

"Six." Donnel responded. "Well, if you don't count the third floor. But that's really just a game room. We decided to be modest and not have ten or twelve rooms seeing as this is the house we spend the most time in. Better to be conservative, right?"

"Yes." Mom said as if she knew what it was like to have more than one home.

"The reading room is by Mercedes'. It has a balcony off of it, so feel free to stargaze tonight. " Clarice said.

We walked to the glass doors and saw the sun setting. It looked as tired as I felt. The pinks and oranges spread across the sky. I wouldn't need to stargaze; the clouds above looked close enough to grab ahold of. The view was dazzling. I lagged a bit behind as our tour group went back downstairs. It seemed like it took five minutes to catch up. How long_ was this hallway?_

"Here's your room for the night Sam." Donnel said, gesturing to a door on my left. Clarice was still taking everyone to their beds for the night. I turned the knob and walked inside. It was a room full of suede furniture. The bedspread was a leathery brown, and from the sight of the window, had a great view. There was a flat screen mounted in the wall beside a painting of a man that resembled Donnel Jones.

"I don't need a bed this big, sir." I said looking back at Mr. Jones.

He shrugged. "It's one of the smaller beds in this house."

"Oh." I muttered feeling embarrassed.

"This was my fourth son, James' room. He left for college two years ago. He was the last sibling of Mercedes' in the house and when he moved away I think it really hurt her." He said sighing. "She misses her brothers, but they come around once a month. And that's good."

"It is." I seconded.

"I don't know why I'm telling you all this, Mercy would blow a gasket if she knew. You're really easy to talk to though. And that's great because women really like to talk."

I laughed. "No joke."

"Okay, I'll let you get settled in." Then he left. I dropped my duffel on a loveseat across the room before leaving too.

Mr. Jones was a good man, and Mrs. Jones a great beautiful women. She resembled an old Hollywood actress with her timeless looks and personality. He had the build of a soldier and behaved like a general. Visibly Clarice was weak where Donnel was strong. They balanced out each other and it showed in their daughter. Maybe I could be what Mr. and Mrs. Jones are for each other with Mercedes. I'd love to be that guy. But would her dad approve of her dating a former stripper? Probably not.

* * *

><p>"Can I help you with anything?" I asked Mrs. Jones as her and Mercedes brought pans of food to the table. Mercedes shook her head and set a plate down in front of me. I eyed the ribs, my mouth watering.<p>

"Donnel, did you hear that?" Mrs. Jones said to him as he flipped a hamburger on the grill. "Sam was being a gentleman and asking if he could help us! Maybe you could take a few pointers from him!"

"Do you not see what I'm doing?" He asked.

"That doesn't matter. It's the principal of the thing." She replied.

My mother giggled beside me. Donnel looked at her. "Are you laughing? Clarice isn't funny you know. You don't have to be nice and laugh at what she says."

Mrs. Jones walked up to him and whacked him with a serving spoon. I began to laugh and glanced over at Mercedes, who was pouring drinks and shaking her head.

"Quiet now; try to act civil around the guests." She said before serving the drinks Mercedes poured out. Quinn and her mother sat across from us, both of them laying platters of food on the table.

"They act like this all the time, Sam." Quinn told me. "You just have to go with it."

"Or at least ignore dad." Mercedes said sitting beside me.

"Don't act like I'm not here!" Donnel exclaimed, flipping a burger so high it almost missed the grill.

"If you don't stop playing with the food you're sleeping on the balcony, Donnel." Clarice called over her shoulder.

To me she said, "He really could learn a lot from you, Sam. I guess he forgot how to be a man somewhere down the line. He thinks pounding his chest and making meat do somersaults validates his manhood. A shame, really."

"Clarice Virginia Jones." He shouted. "You don't know what you're messing with."

We all laughed, except Mrs. Jones who pulled a chair out and sat down. Donnel finally plated the burgers and sat, satisfied like he prepared the whole feast.

"Who's going to say grace?" He asked.

"Obviously the woman of the house does that." Clarice retorted glaring at him. She put out her hands, one to Quinn on her left and Mercedes to her right. I felt Mercedes grasp mine. My face heated up and mom grabbed my other hand. We bowed our heads.

"Dear our Heavenly father, thank you for everything you've given us." Mrs. Jones said her voice soft but powerful. "The food, the home, and the love we are surrounded in. We are truly blessed. Amen."

"Amen to that," Mr. Jones agreed, rubbing his hands together. "Now someone hand me the ribs."

The air was warm, the food was hot, the drinks were cold, and I couldn't get enough. On many occasions my mom told me to slow down, but I just couldn't. No one was acting like they were from a monarchy so I didn't feel the need to pretend either. Mercedes and Quinn were talking about some fashion trend and Margret Fabray kept reminding my mother that they needed to go back to the day spa soon. Mr. and Mrs. Jones bickered back and forth the whole duration of dinner, but it always ended with one of them laughing or grinning. The topics jumped and now everyone had gotten on the discussion of the summer Olympics.

"_Phelps_ better do something." Donnel was saying, helping himself to a scoop of potato salad.

Clarice rolled her eyes. "He will, calm down."

"It's only the first few days." My mom added.

Margret shrugged. "As long as an American wins gold I couldn't care less."

"Clarice doesn't care because she likes that Ryan kid." Mr. Jones claimed. "Neither does Mercy. It's not about being cute, it's about the athletics. I've been trying to get that message across to them, but it's like talking to walls."

"Ryan _is_ cute." Quinn said, siding with them.

"See what I mean?" He asked, looking at me.

"I'm not getting in the middle of this." My mom patted my hand supportively.

"Mercedes if you weren't like your mother so much you'd see it my way. Ryan may be a pretty boy, but he's much more than that."

"_Dad_." She whined, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Please stop."

"Ryan is actually a great athlete; he's great at the breaststroke." I said just to embarrass her further.

"How do you like them apples, huh Clarry? I bet you didn't know that." Donnel hollered, way too enthusiastic about snubbing his wife.

"It's not about the breaststroke, it's about his backside." She argued.

"Oh _God." _Mercedes groaned. Quinn rubbed her back comfortingly.

"Don't act like you don't feel the same way, Mercy." Her dad said.

She winced. "Dad, you're being terrible." It was hard keeping up with all the conversation going on and at times I got lost. But I was never left out. I reached for the platter of ribs, smiling. I don't think the today could be better.

* * *

><p><strong>Quinn's POV (nighttime)<strong>

After dinner I helped Clarice clean the kitchen up while Mercedes lectured her dad on embarrassing her in front of guests. Mom and Mrs. Evans had retired to the den and were watching reruns of a reality TV show. Sam went to go take a shower. As soon as I got done helping Clarice I was gonna do the same.

"Mrs. Jones?" I inquired, wrapping some leftovers up in Saran.

"Yes?"

"You know that I've been trying to become friends with Mercedes again." It wasn't a question.

Clarice yawned, obviously tired. "I do."

"Well, I want you to know that I realize I treated your daughter horribly. I'm sorry. As a mother myself, I wouldn't want anyone hurting Beth."

"That's very mature of you to say Quinn." She said, wiping down the center island.

"Thank you."

"I think you're a lovely girl. You seem to have been going down the right path as of late. I respect you for doing the right thing by your daughter. I have to do the same."

"What are you saying?" I asked.

"I'm saying that I still don't trust you. Call it mother's intuition or whatever, but I don't."

I nodded, cursing mentally. "That's fair. I understand."

"That's all I ask." She said. We cleaned in silence. We were almost done when I went for the kill again.

"Hear me out, okay?"

"Okay."

"Santana got into a fight with Kurt's stepbrother yesterday." I started, seeing Clarice completely freeze in her scrubbing. "There were words exchanged highly inappropriately, and it ended with Santana punching Finn in the face."

Clarice turned and looked at me. "Why are you telling me this?"

"You're looking out for Mercedes' best interest and so am I." I began. "The whole fight happened because Santana has been bullying Rachel Berry in Glee club. Finn as a great person and boyfriend was only confronting her on this. He just wanted to talk it out. She's the one that took it to another level."

She narrowed her eyes. "How do you know?"

"As captain of the cheerleading squad I know a lot about everyone." I said. And this wasn't a lie.

"Santana has been friends with Mercedes for years."

"Santana will tell Mercedes anything to keep their friendship afloat. Their friendship is nothing but a lie, Mrs. Jones." I said. "Santana is supposed to be best friends with Kurt and Mercedes. Well, how good of friends can they be when she's attacking Kurt's stepbrother? Think about it."

Clarice was. I could practically see the wheels churning in her head. "Donnel and I never liked Santana." She told me.

"Neither have I." This also wasn't a lie. "All I'm saying is that Santana is ruthless and has been manipulating your daughter. I'm just trying to protect her."

"Okay." She said after a while. "I'll speak to Mercedes about this."

"Thank you for listening Mrs. Jones." I said sweetly.

"Thank you for telling me the truth." She said.

I didn't want to ruin her friendships, but it had to be done. It was a family affair. My mom deserved the title of Senator a lot more than Clarice did. In truth I felt bad, for God's sake I wasn't heartless, I was cunning. I walked away from Clarice happily, feeling the pieces falling into place.

* * *

><p><strong>Mercedes' POV (late that night) <strong>

It was 2:03 in the morning exactly when I got a phone call from Kurt. Initially I was in the bathroom having woke up with a full bladder. As I finished and washed my hands, I heard my phone beeping frantically from my bedside table. I quickly jogged to it, seeing Kurt's name flash on the screen. I pressed the talk button, wondering why he was calling me so late at night.

"Hello?"

I heard Kurt breathing heavily. "Mercy, Santana's gone."

I blinked. "What?"

"Santana's gone." He said. "She ran away."

"What?" I repeated. "How do you know she ran away?"

Kurt coughed. "Look, there's no time for questions. I'm with Blaine at her grandma's. You need to get here now."

"Now?" I asked, glancing at the clock. "But how am I supposed to leave this late at night?"

"I don't know. I don't care. Just find a way." And with that he disconnected the line.

* * *

><p><strong>What's do you think happened to Santana? Which way do you think Mercedes will sway for Quinn? Does Clarice really believe Quinn? How will Mercedes get out of the house and to Santana's grandma's house? Will she even get there? Tell me your opinionscomments/questions! Review please!**


	13. Something New

Mercedes' POV (2:15 in the morning)

It was semi-dark in the wide hallway and the air was cool. I wrapped my jacket clad arms around me, my breath the only sound. The first level of my house was dormant as I tip toed down the steps of the staircase. I looked back at my parent's bedroom silently and thanked God that they couldn't detect a thing. I walked down another wide hall, hearing James' room resounding. I didn't know who was in James' old room and I really didn't care, but as I passed it the door opened. I froze suddenly in shock and turned, prepared to tell the lie of my life.

"I-" I started to say then exhaled in relief. Sam was there, standing in the threshold. He looked as surprised as I was previously.

"Mercy." He said. I took in his _Superman _tee and snug pajama bottoms. I felt like sighing noisily. It sucked that I didn't have time for proper greetings. He inhaled, about to start a conversation of some sort. I held a finger up, shaking my head.

"Sam I can't talk. Sorry."

"Wait," He said crossing the threshold and closing the door behind him. "Why can't you talk?"

_Shit, _I thought. "I just can't. Sorry."

I walked to the front door and slipped on a random pair of shoes. I didn't know what to expect when I told Sam that. I was hoping that maybe he would go back to bed or whatever he was doing and leave me alone. But of course he didn't. By the time I was turning off the alarm and opening the door he was there, holding it back for me. I turned glancing at him and wondered how he managed to put a hoodie on and shoes that quickly.

"You're leaving?" He asked.

I furrowed my eyebrows. "What else am I doing?"

"Sorry," Sam said following me out the door. "Don't have to bite my head off."

"I'm not." He scoffed, and I stopped walking. "Go back inside the house."

Rather than listening, he walked in front of me. "Where are you going?"

I looked away. "None of your business."

"How is it not my business?"

I stared at him incredulously and started walking again. "How _is _it your business?"

"Okay." He agreed, "You got me there."

We turned the corner of my walkway soundlessly. "Why are you following me Sam?"

"Why not?"

I squinted at him. "_What?_"

"I mean, I was originally going to get a drink," He rephrased. "But when I saw you outside my door looking upset I…" He trailed off, shrugging.

"You what?"

"I don't know. I wanted to figure out what was wrong."

"Rest assured, Sam." I told him. "Nothing's wrong. Now go back inside."

Sam just stood there, looking at me. "Call me crazy, but I don't believe that."

I thought of us standing on the driveway of my house at two in the morning, entirely too late for two teens to be out and about. I understood Sam's point. "Okay, something is wrong. Still it's none of your business and you need to go back to sleep."

"It isn't my business. You're right." He said. "That doesn't change anything though."

"How does it not-" I stopped myself. "Why can't you just-"

"Think about it," He interjected. "We've already made enough noise in the house leaving. If I go back in right now, someone's bound to wake up. Then what am I supposed to do?"

"I don't know. Make up something."

"Mercedes, seriously. _What _could I possibly say that would prevent anyone from wondering where you are?"

I blinked, actually considering this. Finally I said, "Sam if you make this trip any harder for me I'm kicking you out of my car."

"That means I'm coming with you right?"

"Yes." I decided. "It means you're coming with me."

* * *

><p>The first thing Sam did once he got in my car was babble on and on about how cool my Rover was. I told him that no music was to be played in my car because I was trying to think and that wouldn't help. In spite of this, he still scanned through my console for music and made a tsk noise at everything he didn't like. I ignored this as I pulled out of my driveway and onto the road. We were barely down the main drive when I saw Sam try to sneak his iPod onto my music plug. Sam was trying to be inconspicuous, brushing his hand across my dash and slinking his fingers to the volume button.<p>

"You are not slick, Sam." I said turning down a back road.

"What are you talking about?"

"No music." I reminded him.

"But I'm bored." He whined.

"Don't care."

"Come on, what exactly do you need to think about anyway?"

I swallowed back an insult. "I'm not just out here for a joyride. I actually have a purpose."

"Speaking of which," He said fingering a CD in his hands, "What are you doing anyway?"

"It's a long story."

"Well we can't listen to music, so you might as well tell me."

I opened my mouth, my thoughts about to be spoken, but decided against it and shook my head. Why was it so easy to spill the beans every time he asked? I focused on the road as I turned onto highway 169.

"I'm going to Santana's grandma's house."

"This late? Why?"

"There's a lot going on right now," I replied. "And Santana may be in trouble. I don't know exactly what's going on so don't ask, okay? That's why I'm out here right now."

Sam waited awhile before speaking again. "I'm sorry you have to deal with this."

"It's not your fault."

"Do you regret being friends with her sometimes?" He asked suddenly.

I slowed down on the highway. "Excuse me?"

"I mean…" He trailed off and sighed. "I'm not insulting her if that's what you're thinking-"

"It sure sounds like it."

"I'm not, though. Trust me." Sam was looking at me so intensely then that I couldn't help but trust him.

"Santana and you are best friends, but there's something weird about it," He went on, "You're always getting her out of trouble and she continues to act the way she does. Like she wants to keep you running after her or something."

"What are you saying Sam?" I asked, getting irritated.

"It seems like she's trying to keep you straddled to her. It looks like that to me. And if she were a boy I would say it's because she's in love you. Or something."

"Sam you don't know me. You don't know her, and honestly if I were you I would shut up because you don't know what you're talking about." I shook my head, turning to the nearest exit.

"Sorry." He said, for like the fifteenth time tonight. "If you don't want to talk about it, I understand."

"Thanks." I drove in silence for a while, slowly and carefully, thinking about his brashness to my situation. There was so much I wanted to say to him, and so much I wanted to ask. Like how could he already guess what my friendship was like with Santana, or why did he want to know so much about me? But this isn't the time or the place and I don't know how I would begin to ask anyway.

"Do you not want me to come in to her grandma's house with you?"

"I don't know. Why?"

"Well," Sam said, "If you're on a mission, you can't have distractions."

"I'm on a mission now?" I asked.

"Yes."

"And in this case, you're the distraction?"

"Aren't I? Look, that's not even the point. The point is your mission and how I don't need to distract you from it-"

"You say this _after_ you shove your company on me and practically blow my cover?" I interject.

"Yeah." He turned to faced me once I got in Santana's neighborhood. "So it's settled. You go into that woman's house and figure out everything you need to know, while I wait for your return. That way you won't have to explain anything to me you don't want to."

I drove on Maria Lopez's driveway, a bit surprised. I pulled the keys out of the ignition and all the lights of my car flashed off. "Sam, you know you don't have to do that."

"Pfft," He replied, waving his hand in dismissal. "It's called being considerate."

I thanked him for his thoughtfulness, found my door handle in the dark and popped it open. "I won't be too long." I say, looking at his shadowed face.

"Okay." He said. I jumped out of the car and sped walked around the driveway toward Maria's house.

Before I get to the front door, the illuminated Lopez residence stopped me. I lingered on the front yard, looking around and feeling my childhood roar back into my mind. I think of the pool parties consisting of Quinn, Kurt, Santana and I, before high school happened and everything changed. I think of putting on a bathing suit that looked good on me – for once – and walking around town, hanging out at the nearby gas station in the heat of summer. I think of the warm summer nights and everything I had before puberty got the best of us. Everything good I had happened here and now I'm coming over for something completely different. I know Sam must be staring at me and wondering if I've lost my mind, so I force myself to keep going.

* * *

><p>Once I get to the front door, I raise my hand up to knock, but think against it. It's way too late to be banging on someone's door. I get my phone out of my pocket and text Kurt to open the door. I waited two minutes.<p>

"Hey Cedes. Um…" He says, giving me a once over. Kurt gave me a questioning look.

"Don't say a word." I'm still in my pajamas, so I must look ridiculous. But at three in the morning, I'm not capable of looking my best.

"Wasn't about to."

"Uh huh." I said, looking around the living room. Santana's backpack was leaning up against the couch. I felt my heart wrench. I hoped she was okay.

"How's Maria?"

"Oh." Kurt starts, looking behind us to the kitchen where I'm assuming Blaine and her were. "She's okay, as she will be, I guess. I don't know I think she's tired like the rest of us."

"Tired like the rest of us…?"

Kurt sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, like he was annoyed with me already. "We're tired of Santana and her bullshit, Mercedes. And don't act like you're not sick of it. Because I know I am, and you are too." Kurt was looking at me like I was insane,. As if I was in on this pact against Santana and her fleeting presence, when in reality I wasn't.

"Never mind that, we have to get back to Blaine and Maria." I didn't get a word out before Kurt was yanking me sideways, past the living room and into the kitchen, where Maria was pouring a cup of something that looked like it was for me. I hoped it was, anyway. It smelled delicious.

"Good evening, Mercy." Maria greeted me, walking around the table to wrap me up in a hug. For a sixty-year-old woman, she had a firm grip.

"Good evening, Maria. Sorry we had to catch up like this."

"Well what can you do right?" She gestured toward the table. "Come, drink some of my holiday punch and we'll talk."

"Okay." I looked at Blaine, who was completely engrossed in something on his iPad, so I'd leave him alone for now.

"Hey Mercedes." He said, gazing up at me from his spot at the table.

_Guess not. _I sat down across from him and took a sip of my punch. It was warm, fruity, and absolutely delectable as always. "How are you?"

Blaine quirked an eyebrow at me. "At three in the morning? I'm alright."

"Okay!" Maria said sitting down beside Blaine as Kurt sat beside me. "Any news?"

"Not really, M." Blaine started as he stared back down on his iPad. "All I know is that she went to a party with her cousins."

_Oh God, _I think, remembering the text messages she sent me I haven't even looked at yet. I pull my phone out, and scan my inbox.

_**3:07 p.m.: **__Hey, Cedes. Just had a cool convo with Sierra. She helped me think through things. I came to a decision. Call me when you get this__**.**_

_**3:25 p.m.: **__M, WTF I need to talk to you. It's serious. It's about the treatment__facility._

_**6:10 p.m.: **__M, I'm going away with Sierra. I wanted to talk but there's no time now. I don't know when I'll come back. Don't tell grandma this. Tell her I'm staying with Charlotte for a few days. Make sure she doesn't worry. I'll try and keep in touch. I love you._

I feel the holiday punch crawl up my throat. _Why didn't I check phone? _I want to throw up, but I have to keep my calm. "Guys!" I exclaim.

"What?" Kurt asks.

"Santana just texted me!"

"Thank God." Maria says, placing a hand over her heart.

"Well what did she say?" Blaine said.

I glance around the table at them and scroll through my inbox to feign finding the message. "She told me that she's staying with Charlotte for a few days." I say. "She forgot to let us know since she's at that party. And she says that she doesn't want us to worry."

"Too late for that huh?" Kurt laughs.

"No joke." I reply.

"Well if that's the case I'm going to bed. I really hate to do that to you guys since you just got here, but a woman needs her sleep. Let yourselves out." And with that Maria left the table, taking her mug with her.

"I have to leave too; I snuck out of the house for this." I state, getting up with my mug and heading toward the door. "Bye guys love you."

"Love you too Mercy." Kurt and Blaine said, smiling at me.

"Call me later?" I ask, looking at Kurt.

"Of course."

* * *

><p>"What's this?" Sam asks as I hand him my mug of holiday punch.<p>

"It's delicious, drink it."

"Um, okay thanks."

I back away from Maria's house and turn onto the road in silence. I tear through the highway and get into my neighborhood in record time. I don't know how late it is, but I'm glad that I didn't get pulled over by the cops. As we get near my house I slow down so I won't disturb the neighbors, and partly because I don't want the drive to end. I'm hoping he doesn't either. There's something comforting about having a person there to listen to whatever you have to say. And Sam was that guy.

Soon I see my estate coming into view, and the street sign to my right. We pass the houses beside us, and the trees, and then we're home. I slowly creep into the garage and turn my car off. Then we're in the dark again. I didn't know if Sam was about to jump out of the car or what, so I spoke before he got the chance.

"Thanks for coming with me, you didn't have tp."

"No need to thank me, I wanted to come, remember?"

"Oh yeah." We sit there for a moment. I focus on the light spilling out from the door leading into the house. I'm desperate to say something, anything so that this conversation doesn't end right now, but I can't think of anything to say.

"I wish we could've talked more yesterday." I blurt out.

"Me too. It's okay though, we'll get our chance," Sam agrees before giving me a look.

"What?" I ask.

"Are you okay?"

"Um…" I _did _have a headache, but so what? "I have a headache. But I'm just going to take an aspirin when I get in the house."

"No, don't."

"What? Why?"

Sam unbuckles his seatbelt and leans across me to grab my shoulder. His face and body are all shadows, and I can only barely make out the lines of his body, and feel his closeness of course. I have no idea what he's doing or planning to do.

"You don't have to take an aspirin, I have an idea. Can I try?" I can feel his warm breath on me, we're that close. He smells like boy and holiday punch.

"Sure." I go along with way too much around Sam.

He reaches out suddenly and puts a warm hand on either side of my face, his thumbs resting on my temples. "I um," He looks embarrassed but doesn't pull away. "My mom used to rub my temples when I was younger because it would always make the headache go away."

"Why didn't you just take an aspirin?" I ask, in a daze from smelling and feeling Sam around me.

He coughs nervously. "We didn't have the money."

I felt bad for asking now. "I'm sorry." I mumble.

"No… it's okay." He pulls back a little and I immediately regret opening my mouth. But he doesn't take his hands away from my face, he's searching my face. I think. The thought of Sam staring at me makes my body temperature rise.

"Tell me if it hurts, okay?" He says quietly. I nod.

Sam put pressure on one of my temples and rubbed in a circular motion. When he did, my whole body relaxed. I felt his other hand brush hair away from my face, and could still feel the impression of his fingers long after they returned to my temples. I closed my eyes, and although there wasn't a difference between the dark behind my eyes or the darkness around us, I couldn't help myself from doing so.

Then, I feel his breath so close to mine I swear he's going to kiss me right here, in my car, at three-something in the morning, but he doesn't. I don't know what he's doing. I do know he's just inches away from my face, and I don't want to open my eyes and ruin the moment. So I keep them closed.

He pulls away a bit after that, and stops rubbing. I open my eyes. "Wow. That felt amazing."

"Really?" I feel him perk up. I nod, and as I do I notice he's still cupping my face.

"I don't even have a headache anymore. Thank you."

"Mercedes." That's all he says, and it's more of a whisper that anything. We sat there like that, just staring at each other. _Now, _I think. _He's going to kiss me._ But he retracts his hands and runs a hand through his hair instead.

"Well, we better get inside." I bite out, feeling disappointed. I turn and open my car door, sucking in a breath. "I'll see you in the morning."

I hear Sam call my name as I walk to the door, but I don't turn around. I keep going until I'm back in my room with the door shut behind me and safely alone in my thoughts.

* * *

><p><em>My mom has said many times that as human beings, we're meant to be alone. We come into the world alone, and we go out the same way we came. But as God's children, we are never alone or forsaken. He sees us from birth to the end of our lives unwaveringly. I believe in both philosophies. And still, I feel alone no matter where I am or who I'm with.<em>

* * *

><p><strong>Hey guys! It's been a while, right? School and working has really gotten the best of me, but I'm back! Please review and tell me what you guys think! Did you like the Samcedes moment? Did you not like it? Will Santana come back or not? Any criticism? Review please!<strong>


	14. Before I do something I regret

**Sam's POV (8:24 a.m.)**

When I left my room in the morning, the first person I saw was Quinn. Well, actually, she was the only person I saw because I assumed everyone else was downstairs already eating breakfast. Being up for the majority of the night only to get four hours of sleep was a lot to bear especially following a long day and I was tired. I managed to drag myself into the shower and become presentable before leaving the room. I heard Mercedes' unrested voice from the kitchen as I walked into the hall.

I was halfway to the stairs when I spotted Quinn walking out of her room and into the reading room. I was so sleepy I could barely keep my eyes open, and I didn't have enough energy to make conversation, so I steered clear.

As I walked down the stairs and into the kitchen my first instinct was to go straight to the food, but I knew I had to show my face, so I walked into the dining area.

Once there, I saw that the Jones' were squeezed together in some kind of tight embrace, and by the looks of it – probably initiated by Donnel Jones. His arms were wrapped around his daughter and wife, hugging them so tightly it looked like it hurt.

"Ow, dad, stop." I heard Mercedes' muffled plea.

"I'm just so happy the women of the house finally decided to treat me like the king I am!" He replied, releasing them.

I felt a soft hand cup my shoulder from behind me. Without even needing to turn to see who it was, I knew it was mom. We exchanged smiles.

"What's this all about?" She asked, walking over to the china cabinet and picking out some plastic ware for breakfast.

"My babydoll and my baby girl made my favorite breakfast. And it's about damn time too!"

"You haven't done that before?" Mom asked.

"We have." Mercedes responded, rolling her eyes.

"They have, that's no lie." Donnel said, wiping at his eyes like he was on the verge of tears. _Geez._ "But every time they did, I had to drop hints beforehand."

"By dropping hints he means begging." Clarice added.

Mom shot Clarice Jones a questioning look. "But it's just breakfast."

"I married a buffoon." Clarice explained.

"Virginia," Donnel said warningly. "The king is happy. Be a good queen and keep it that way."

In reply to this, Clarice smacked his chest very harshly and walked into the kitchen, Mercedes trailing after her.

Donnel shook his head, sitting down at the head of the long table. "A real man can appreciate a good breakfast. But whenever he decides to voice his appreciation, _than_ it's a problem."

"CLARICE!" Donnel called after her. "I'M HUN-GRY! WHERE'S THE FOOD?!"

At that moment she came bustling through the dining room, carrying trays of pancakes and fruit. Mercedes was right after her, with a tray of sausage links and sliced ham. My mouth watered. If I lived in this house, I would be fat enough to qualify for the Biggest Loser.

Mercedes set the trays down and looked at her father with exasperation. "Mrs. Fabray is cooking the eggs. Could you calm down a bit? This isn't easy work."

"You could've at least helped carry this stuff out here." Clarice seconded.

"Hell to the no! This is _my_ special breakfast; the only thing I'm going to do is help clear these trays!"

"You're gonna regret saying that."

"I don't think I will." Clarice and Donnel stared each other down.

"Maybe not now, but you will later." She gave him a meaningful look. You didn't have to be a rocket scientist to understand what she meant.

"Gross, mom - Don't do this today please! I haven't even eaten yet." Mercedes whined, slipping into a chair while holding her head.

"This isn't a scandalous topic Mercy, love is a beautiful thing." Her mom said. "But sometimes people forget to appreciate it, and that's when it's time to take their _loving_ away for a while."

Donnel shook his head. "I give you two women a home, everything you want, and this is what I get in return? A damn shame."

"Hope you like the balcony, Donny. 'Cause you're gonna be sleeping there for a while."

Mercedes mumbled something unintelligible. I took this as a perfect opportunity to see what she was wearing. I was actually dressed in day clothes and here she was, comfortable and in her element. She looked cute, as usual. Her hair was in a bun on top of her head and she still had her footie pajamas on. The dancing penguins on her pj's were too endearing.

Throughout the course of breakfast, I tried to make eye contact with Mercedes at least a hundred times, but she never failed to look in the other direction. Just a few hours ago we were having a great conversation, now she won't even look at me. I don't know what went wrong.

Just as I was about to start a conversation with Mercedes – try, at least – Quinn came walking into the dining room, rubbing at her eyes and looking very tired.

"You okay, Quinnie?" Clarice asked, looking up from her iPhone.

"You look tired." Mom added.

"I am," Quinn said, grabbing a few strips of bacon and sitting down next to me. "I barely got any sleep."

"Bless your heart, could you not fall asleep?" My mom replied.

"No, that's not it." She says, looking at Mercedes discreetly. I noticed, though. "There was so much noise from outside; I don't know what was going on."

"Well I don't either, because I couldn't hear a thing last night." Clarice said, shaking her head confusingly.

"It sounded like cars driving away or something, I don't know."

I froze, and saw Mercedes freeze across from me. _Were we about to be discovered?_

"Sorry for taking so long to arrive at breakfast, but after a woman cooks she needs her shower." Margret said, coming into the dining area. And at just at the right time, too.

"Good morning Mrs. Fabray." I said feeling relieved.

"Good morning handsome." She replied, coming over to me and pinching my cheeks. The pungent perfume was back and in full force. I tried not to look disgusted.

"Isn't he such a gentleman?" Clarice said, smiling at me. I returned the smile. I really liked Mrs. Jones.

"He's definitely a charmer." Margret agreed.

"You tryna' steal my thunder, Son?" I heard Donnel growl.

I gulped. "Uh, no sir."

Clarice smacked him upside his head. "Quit being an ass!"

Everyone laughed and I chuckled nervously. Donnel sure knew how to make a guy feel uncomfortable.

* * *

><p>"I think," Donnel said, coming into the living room with holiday punch in his hand, "That we should watch a movie in the theater before our guests leave."<p>

The den was pretty much vacant. Only Clarice, him and I were on the couch watching TV. Everyone else was upstairs getting dressed. I knew we had to leave the Jones' by three to be back at our houses by 5:30, but that didn't mean I wanted to go. I really liked the Jones'. They were nice and welcoming. Clarice could cook up a storm and Donnel was hilarious. Mercedes… I shook my head. She wouldn't talk to me no matter what I did. Obviously she's mad at me, but why? And there was no way to get her alone to ask.

"That sounds good." Clarice said, looking over at me. "What do you think, Sam?"

"Sure, I like movies."

"Alright then." Clarice got up, putting the hand that was just clutching Donnel's on my shoulder as she walked past me. I got up then too, and decided to go to my room I was staying in. I needed to talk to somebody.

"Hello?"

I sighed at the sound of Kurt's voice when he picked up. A few weeks ago when I told him I didn't want any friends, he was right. It was a terrible lie.

"Hey, Kurt. It's Sam."

"I know."

"Okay, um…" I scratched the back of my head. "Can you talk?"

"Obviously." He said.

"What's your problem?" I said, offended.

Kurt sighed. "Sorry. I didn't get much sleep last night."

_Oh yeah. _I thought, remembering last night's events. "It's okay."

"So what do you want to talk about?"

I explained the latest developments in Mercedes and my friendship-thing without mentioning that part of this took place twelve hours ago. I told him everything, from the nonexistent acknowledgement this morning to how I rubbed her temples to make her feel better. I told him about how we were getting on more personal terms and now she won't look at me.

Kurt made a low whistle. "This is intense."

"I know."

"But it's really simple, you know that right?"

"What? No!" I exclaimed, flabbergasted.

"Well she's mad at you-"

"Really?" I said sarcastically.

"Being a jerk will get you nowhere, Sam." He said before continuing. "She's mad with good reason too."

"What? Why?"

"Try to keep up. Mercedes is confused because you can't make up your mind."

"But I didn't do any-"

"Nope!" Kurt yelled – right into my ear, too. "Shut up before you make an ass of yourself. If I were Mercedes, I would've smacked you for this. Didn't I warn you not to do this?"

"What is 'this'? What did I do?" I asked.

"You didn't kiss her." I looked at my cell incredulously.

"I didn't kiss her." I said, this wasn't a question.

"You didn't." He agreed.

"Alright," I started. "To clarify, you're saying that Mercedes is mad at me because I didn't lay one on her."

"'Lay one on her'? Really, Sam? But yeah, that's why she's mad."

I rolled my eyes. "I think you need to go back to sleep Kurt."

"You can think whatever you want. But I'm right. Coming from the point of view of Mercedes, I know how she works, what makes her tick. She's mad as hell because you're confused and she's not."

"I'm not confused, Kurt." I said.

"Oh, but you are." He replied, half laughing. "Do you like her?"

"Yeah."

"No, do you really, _really_ like her?"

"Um…" I could've said yes without a doubt, but what difference would it make? I would never be good enough for her, and mom wants me to go after Quinn anyway. It just wouldn't work. It's heaven-sent that I'm even friends with her.

"See? You're in limbo. You don't like her, but you don't not like her. And that's confusing,"

"You have a point."

"I know I do." He said.

"But what do I do?" I asked.

"Figure out what you want and quit confusing people. But hurry, because if you turn out to like her more than a friend, it might be too late." He said before telling me to get my act together and hanging up.

I sat on my bed and looked out the window to my right. I wish it was as easy as Kurt said to get things done, but it never was. Everything is complicated. I didn't know what to do about Mercedes, but I knew Kurt was right. If I didn't hurry, it would be too late.

* * *

><p>A half hour later, I could hear Donnel summoning the household to the theater to watch the newest Iron Man installment. And if this were any other time, I would've been thrilled. But I wasn't involved enough to pay attention. I opened up the door to my room and looked outside. Everyone was making their way out of their rooms and into the theater.<p>

I slipped around the hallway without even talking to anyone, but I did notice Mercedes. She was wearing an off shoulder sweater and fitted jeans. It looked like she was wearing fuzzy house-shoe-boot things. I know dick about fashion. She was cute as ever, though. Her hair was smooth with soft waves. She turned around when Quinn called her from behind me. She still doesn't have any make-up on, but she doesn't need it. For a second, she looks in my direction. Her eyes capture me, draw me in. They're brown.

Mercedes and Quinn walk together, talking loudly and excitedly about seeing Robert Downey Jr. Once they were ahead of me, I was the only one left behind. For a moment I just stood there, right in the middle of the hallway, alone. In the theater, some bouncy dance music was playing, and over it I heard laughing.

"Hey, Sam." Mom called from around the corner. I walked ahead and saw her looking excited and in her element: up the social ladder and around the wealthiest people in Ohio. "You ready to join us?"

I looked back to my room and thought of what I've told Kurt about my mother. And thought about how quiet it was in there compared to this loudness. _No, _I thought. _I'm not._

* * *

><p><strong>Mercedes' POV<strong>

I've been disappointed and upset all day, but it was going to stop here. I couldn't be mad because Sam didn't do what I wanted him to, if that's even what I want. Anything worth having was never easy to obtain, and if I wanted Sam I had to work for him.

Dad decided he wanted to watch a movie with the guests before they leave, which isn't a bad idea. But after everything that's happened over the past thirty hours – piled with Dad leaving Tuesday, and mom leaving Thursday – I kind of want both my parents to myself for a while.

We were in the theater, and dad didn't remember how to turn on or dim the lights so we were in the dark. I'm completely alone in a whole row while the adults are together, and Sam and Quinn are sitting next to each other.

Of course, that's why he didn't kiss me – or anything last night. He's interested in Quinn. And why wouldn't he be? She's beautiful, a cheerleader, and practically a genius. Right size, right appearance, right skin tone to match his, right everything. I wanted to vomit.

Two rows down from mine, I saw Sam and Quinn looking chipper than I've ever seen those two. I wanted to say that she was flirting with him, but she was obviously being herself. She didn't get pregnant for nothing. Quinn was a flirt. Just like the sky was blue and dogs didn't walk on two legs.

I watched RDJ kick butt for a few minutes, before hearing Quinn giggling very loudly and playfully punch Sam's shoulder. I felt my eyes water despite the anger I felt.

She knew I had a crush on him though! At least she could've said _Hey Mercy, I know I said I wanted to be you friend, but I'm gonna go after your crush, okay? _Who was I kidding? I should've already known she would do this! It's what she does – steal guys away from girls who don't stand a chance. Candy from a baby.

I pushed off of my chair, then out the theater, upstairs to the reading room, and finally the balcony. Outside, the air was cold, the sky was clear, and I knew autumn was here. I sighed heavily. I just stood there, looking out into the open space, the sounds of flirting behind me. From where I was standing I could get a partial view of the estates around me and thought that this is what people worked all their lives for. But I couldn't understand why. Nothing about it was happy.

I went back inside, pausing in the reading room to listen. There was only silence, and faint sounds of my stereo in my room. Oddly, but maybe not to strange, I heard _All I Wanted _from Paramore playing. I chuckled to myself, and hummed along as I walked around the room, fingering books I've read over and over again.

By the time I was seated in a bean bag chair with _Speak _the song changed to _Breakdown_ by Mariah Carey. Of course it would. Freaking typical.

I was reading about how much Melinda hated high school when I heard a low whistle of breakdown from outside the room. Was that-?

"Hey, why'd you leave?"

I looked up from my book and saw Sam leaning against the threshold with a confused look on his face.

_Go away, _I thought, but then he was walking through the room and sitting next to me in a bean bag nearby.

"I don't like movies." I lied. I _loved _movies. I watched them by myself when mom and dad weren't around. Which was all the time.

"Okay."

"What about you? Why are you not in there?" I asked, closing up _Speak _and laying it in my lap.

"I hate movies." He said smiling and that makes me smile too, against my better judgment.

"What are you reading?" He asks, referencing to the book in my lap and surmising why I left the theater.

"_Speak _by Laurie Halse Anderson. I've read this book so many times."

He looks meaningfully at my book and smiles again, tilting his head as if in deeper thought. Talking about books while being with smiling Sam in my haven is disarming.

"You like reading?"

"Take a look," I say instead of answering, "Around this room." He does.

"There's about 1150 books in here. About 72% of these books are mine."

"That's…"He trails off and looks baffled.

"Eight-hundred-twenty-eight exactly. I like to read, Sam."

"But how have you read so many books?" He asks, still looking baffled. _Crap, I let my nerd out. _

"Um, I have a lot of spare time."

"With your parents around? That seems unlikely."

I chuckled bitterly. "They're not."

"Not what?"

"Around. They hardly are. Their jobs are so demanding they don't have enough time to give to me." I can't believe I've already said so much to Sam. Practically a stranger.

"Oh. Sorry." _Sorry. _It's what everyone says when they feel bad for someone else. It doesn't mean anything, but when Sam said that, I think he meant it.

"It's okay. It's not your fault."

We sit in a semi comfortable silence until Sam blurts out, "Are you mad at me?"

"What would make you think that?"

"Well," He starts nervously, "You didn't really talk to me this morning and – and last night, you just _left. _Just like when you left twenty minutes ago. I don't know. Are you mad at me?"

I must take too much time to reply because he went on. "I mean, if you're mad at me for something I did – I don't know what I did, though – I'm sorry. Honestly. I really like being you're friend, and I don't want to lose that-"

"Sam." I said. He kept rambling, so I repeated, louder, _"Sam."_

Finally silence. "I _was _mad, not at you exactly."

"Really?" His face is flashing between worried, happy, and nervous.

"Really. You like being my friend?" I ask, just because seeing Sam nervous is mad cute.

"Of course. You're amazing, Cedes." I tilt my head in astonishment at his eyes because he seems to be staring intently into mine like he's looking for something specific.

It was like this last night, this comfortable tranquil feeling that took over me when he was rubbing my temples. It was just like this when I thought he was going to kiss me, and he didn't. Like finally getting the best dream of your life, only to be woken up minutes later. I wasn't going to fall for this trick again.

"Well," I said, getting up. "We better go back downstairs, right?"

"No, Mercedes wait-"

I got up and started walking toward the door, not even listening. I'm almost at the door when I feel a warm hand on my back, and Sam's spinning me around to face him.

"**Cedes**." He put two fingers underneath my chin and tilts my face up towards his and I'm forced to look at him.

"What, Sam?"

"Why are you running away again?" He looks so concerned I feel my heart clenching.

"I'm not running," I say. "We have to go."

"No, we don't." He says seriously, sternly.

"Huh?"

"We don't have to go _anywhere._" He releases my chin and moves in front of me so I can't leave the room. "I want to know why you keep doing this. I want to know now."

"I don't –"I start, but he cuts me off.

"You can't say you're not mad at me then leave the next moment like you're mad."

"I don't want you to think I'm mad all the time." I whisper.

He looks like he wants scream. "We have these incredible conversations were I feel accepted and normal for once in my life, and then I say something like 'you're amazing', and then you go back to being mad at me."

"You feel normal around me?" I blurt out before I can stop myself.

He looks at me unwaveringly. "I feel _better_ than normal around you."

"Look Sam," I say. "I have a lot of problems, and stress, and issues. There's a lot you don't know about me. I know you probably feel the same. But there's a lot going on right now…"

"Are you in trouble? Is there something wrong?" I'm shaking my head even as he says this, my eyes watering again.

"Mercedes, you can tell me. Whatever is wrong, you can trust me."

I'm getting flash backs of the morning Santana told me she was lesbian and how she could barely speak up. For a moment I'm tempted to just tell him my whole life story, from how great it was to how bad it got. But I couldn't. Not now.

"I'm not in trouble, Sam. It's not about me." I look up at his worried face and my heart feels like it's doing cartwheels again. He's giving me a look so deep I swear he's seeing stuff even I don't know about.

With the look he's giving me, I don't want him to see something he won't like, so I wrap my arms around him and give him a hug. He returns it, and so now we're actually embracing, so I nuzzle my face into his shirt. My lips are touching his hoodie cover chest – I'm smell his cologne and taste something that has to be pure Sam – and as I feel him pull me even closer I think somewhere in the back of my mind that this is not platonic.

"We'll tell each other our stories someday." He promises, like this was inevitable.

"Okay." I agree, just because he's still hugging me and I can't refuse a thing he says.

He breaks away gently and I swear I felt him kiss the top of my head. But I'm not going to say a thing. For once, I'm just happy.

* * *

><p><strong>Quinn's POV<strong>

Once Sam left the theater I followed my instincts and him. I should've known that he was going after that blimp. Of course he would, Sam's a good guy. Perfect for me. Not Mercedes. I only heard bits and pieces of their conversation, but it was enough to know that Mercy was playing the innocent, emotionally scarred girl. How pathetic.

If she was so innocent, why was she slipping off in the middle of the night? Probably to go see Shane, another guy swooning over her big ass. He'd find out soon enough that she was just a tease. Just like Sam would. But I didn't want him to fall for her tricks.

Mercedes never said anything about her love life, but I knew she was a man-eater. Why else would Puck break up with me for her? He didn't like virgins, or innocent girls. He liked them experienced and disposable. Whatever.

Mercedes has everything she ever wanted. She has friends, a family that loves her, what more could she want? Sam Evans.

But not this time. For once, I was going to get what I wanted. Not what mom wanted, or dad, or Puck, or even fucking Mercedes. What I wanted.

* * *

><p><strong>So Quinn is bitter as hell, huh? What will this trifling girl do next? Haha, and how did you feel about the Samcedes moments? Anything else? I love writing about Mr. and Mrs. Jones. <strong>

**Next chapter will be back to McKinley-based events since it'll be the weekday(s). A lot is coming up so I hope you guys are ready! And just in time for the holidays too!**

**AND ****REVIEW ****PLEASE! PLEASE! I WORK SO HARD ON THESE CHAPTERS FOR YOU GUYS.**

*****Side note so feel free to skip this to ****REVIEW*********

**Do any of you guys have requests for a certain theme-idea for their regionals competition? Not Glease, that is **_**strictly **_**in the Samcedes vault as far as I am concerned. **


	15. Amazing Grace

**Mercy's POV**

I woke up early, to noises almost unfamiliar. I almost couldn't place it. _Thump. Clank. Bang. _The sound of something clattering to the floor, followed by someone's cursing. _Dad._

I opened my eyes, squinted, and stared high up into my ceiling. The sound of my parents in the house was unfamiliar. My eyes casted down, over the ancestral paintings, past my flat screen and to my window. Past it, there was a clear sky that the weather man warned us about, and the beginnings of other estates next to us.

_Clank. Clink. Thud. _

I sat up, looking out that window again. It was going to be the first morning since Thursday that I wouldn't be waiting for Santana to pick me up. I didn't know how long this was going to last. I was going to try and call her before I left the house. What time was it?

_Thud. Swish. Clank. _More cursing, some laughter, and then a crash.

I cringed slightly, not in the kitchen but feeling the echoes of impact. Mom was going to kill dad for putting dents in all our appliances. I got up, and looked at my bedside clock. It was 6:30 a.m. In an hour or so I needed to be gone. I grabbed for my phone and dialed Santana's number.

She didn't pick up, but I left a message reassuring her that everything was fine and that I missed her. I reminded her voicemail to give me details on her whereabouts very soon, or there'd be consequences to pay. I slipped on some house shoes. Outside my room it was now quiet, my squeaking slippers all I could hear as I shuffled down the hallway.

Mom's voice is filtered through the sounds of an early breakfast. She told dad to get out of the kitchen very impolitely. I walked down the stairs and into the living room before plopping down on the couch. Dad's sitting on one end of it watching TV and chewing gum. I crawl over to him and lay my head down on his lap.

"You," He says, rubbing my back, "Are just in time for a background on Egyptian history."

I shift around and get comfortable. "World history was sophomore year, dad. I'm in politics and government now."

"So? The past doesn't lose its meaning just because you've lost interest in it, Mercedes."

"Okay." I agree. "Let's have at it."

Dad loved all history related things. I didn't care about it, but I was the only bird left in the nest so I had to endure it. James didn't care either, but DJ and Jeremy l did. Elijah was the oldest of us, and by the time I was ten he was in college, so I don't really know if he liked the History Channel or not.

Dad's been gone a lot these past few months, more now than ever, so we haven't got to do much together. Even if it was just watching a rerun about the Great Pyramids and their Book of the Dead.

"Hmm," Dad hummed in wonderment over something amazing about King Tut. "Really? That's fascinating."

Dad talked to the TV on every occasion and for every channel. If it was basketball, Kevin Durant needed to get his head in the game if he wanted to be anywhere near Jordan status. If it was the cooking channel, no one had anything on Paula Dean. And in this case the History Channel, where everything was intriguing and important.

This entire weekend has been a calm before the storm experience. I've been wondering what to expect when I returned to school today, and what to say to keep Santana's cover intact. If anything at McKinley would truly be different after what happened on Friday, or if everyone would return to the same old, same old.

"How's Santana?" Dad asked after fifteen minutes of intense listening.

"She's okay. You know, she's still lively as ever." I wasn't sure why, but talking about Santana was exhausting. Like every time someone brought her up I suddenly felt tired, too tired to even give a good response. There was something so heavy about the burden of Santana and her ways. I didn't know if I had it in me to keep protecting her.

"Your mother informed me about her a couple days ago, Mercy."

I froze, my breath catching in my throat. _Oh no, not again_. He was going to scold me for being her friend. Our quality time was going to be spent arguing with each other.

"What did she say?" I ask.

"That Santana got into a fight, and the whole encounter was her fault."

"Nothing's ever entirely someone's fault alone." I say, "Besides, she's confused. And she's having a tough time right now. It's sad."

He sat back further into the couch, adjusting both of our positions. He picked up the remote. "I just don't understand why you surround yourself with people like her."

"Because I love her and she's my best friend."

"Is it because you're like her, too?" He continues like I didn't just explain myself. "Confused and sad?"

_Why did I come downstairs? _"No dad, I'm fine." I say, but I know it's too late. He's done listening to me all together. Now if I say anything at all, I'm adding fuel to the flames.

"That's what it looks like to us."

"Who's 'us'? Who even told mom about this?" _I bet it was Quinn. I bet on my life that it was Quinn._

"Your mother and I are really concerned about you, Mercy."

I sit up from his lap. This conversation wasn't going to end well. "What are you concerned about?"

"Your place at McKinley. Clarice thinks we should get you an interview for one of the private schools by where I work."

"Why would you do that? You work on _Wall Street _Dad! That's in New York!"

"Watch your mouth." I got quiet immediately.

"Now," He turns the volume down on the TV. "She wants to see if you would do better at a private school in Manhattan. New place, new people, new lifestyle to get you ready for the future. Plus it's twenty minutes away from where I work. I could sell my condo and get a bigger one to accommodate our needs."

"She wants to get me away from Santana."

"Clarice was going to talk to you more about this over breakfast."

"I don't wanna talk." I shiver, curling up on the couch. "Do you want me to leave Ohio?"

"This seems a bit overzealous, even for Clarice. But she's never liked Santana. Or Quinn, and she doesn't care too much for Kurt either, which sums up all of your friends. My opinion though, is that you should stay. Only because it's your senior year. Despite your choice of friends, I don't want you to leave them behind."

"Mom doesn't care about that, though."

"She wants you to thrive in a better environment. With better people." The remote was on his lap now, and the faint sound of bacon sizzling was in the background. Surely mom could hear this unfolding. Or maybe not, this house was huge.

"She already set up an interview, didn't she?"

"The Friday before Christmas break. So you can decide whether you want to come back to Ohio by January or not." _I knew it._

"I'm eighteen. You can't do this to me."

He nods, "We know that. This is only a suggestion."

"I don't want to go. I want to stay here. Nothing's going to change that." I say, and mean it one-hundred percent.

"It might. We've noticed how you've acted lately. You're miserable, and it's our fault. We're never around, Mercedes."

"I've learned to deal with that, Dad. This isn't news." Why were they doing this now? _What was going on?_

He repositioned himself in his seat, looking uncomfortable."We're worried about you. We don't want you around those people. Living with me and visiting mom when I do every month would be great for the family."

"Now you and mom want what's best for the family?" I say, feeling my anger rise.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He asks.

"When did you two decide that you still had a child at home? When did this happen? Yesterday?" I stand up and walk around the coffee table, not believing this was happening to me.

I can feel dad's glare on me as I pace. "Don't talk to me like that, Mercedes. You don't mean that, you know we care about you. We're doing the best we can."

"You didn't care when I started taking antidepressants last year. Nobody noticed my grades slipping away just like my friends. No one's here to make sure I don't relapse again. Nobody listens. Nobody cares. You were always too busy with your meetings and mom's always at fancy dinners with her buddies."

"How _dare _you say that, Mercedes!" He shouts. "That's not true and you know it."

"You're trying to get rid of me. I'm making mom look bad. She has an election coming up right? In November." I'm talking fast and hysterically, this is bad. I can feel my sanity tumbling down. Dad's yelling at me now, telling me to remember who I'm talking to. That usually snaps me out of it, but not this time. I'm vicious.

"I bet James is failing out of college, just like Elijah. Does he want to be a rapper too? What about DJ? Isn't this his sixth year in college? Wait, no, better: Jeremy got Ashley pregnant. He did, didn't he? He always said they were serious. Hope he's serious enough to make it last; child support for rich guys is brutal." Dad's face is the color of a heart attack. The contortion of his face is monstrous. I've never seen Dad this mad before. Not even when the stock market crashed in August. He's going to get up and slap me into another century any minute now.

But then, his body relaxes and he sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. He shakes his head a few times, and takes a sip from his mug on the coffee table. I wonder if he hates me. "This is about you, Mercedes. Not your brothers."

No, dad's disappointed. That's even worse. I feel my crazy-angry high recede back into the defective part of my head. Now I'm disappointed in me, too.

"I wish I understood why you're so mad at us. All of us. We love you Mercedes." He stops and sighs again. He's tired.

"I'm not mad." I lie. "I'll go to that interview."

"Thank you." He smiled and turned the volume on the TV back up. Good for him, he got what he wanted. But I didn't. When do I ever?

* * *

><p>I go upstairs silently and get ready. I don't see what I'm putting on, I don't care. I lost thirty minutes between yelling and talking to dad. I don't have any time to sulk. I go to the bathroom and brush my teeth until I bleed. I watch myself in the mirror.<p>

Yesterday was a good day. It's already bad today when yesterday was only eight hours ago. I don't understand. How can I fall so far off the map in eight hours? Well maybe not. Maybe I slipped long ago when I wasn't even a junior yet. It happened and I don't remember how, where, or when but yet here I am. I don't know how to go back. Nothing works.

My hands reach up to the medicine cabinet and I find the empty bottle of Celexa. I ran out two weeks ago, but I still look at the bottle to remind myself that I don't need them. I look at the bottle of muscle relaxers. It's full. I take two and brush my hair violently and slap a headband on.

I'm slipping on my _Sperry's _and I'm about to disappear from this damn house when mom comes in. She smiles and lays a plate of bacon on my desk then leaves. I watch her escape before shutting my bedroom door again. I bite off a piece of fried pork. It tastes like bullshit. I throw the pieces away and practically float downstairs. Those muscle relaxers are kicking in early. I can't feel a thing. I tell mom and dad bye over my shoulder and walk out the door before I hear a reply.

As I drive, I faintly remember Sam saying I could trust him with whatever I have to say. I might have to take him up on that offer. Maybe he'd actually listen.

* * *

><p><strong>Sam's POV<strong>

I knew that there was something wrong with Mercedes when I first saw her today. I haven't seen her all day until fourth hour as usual, and she looked bad. Not bad like she became ugly, or something. I guess that's the wrong word. She looked tired, miserable, depressed. I couldn't find a correct adjective. I turned around in my desk to say hi, and she replied but it was softly. She was looking at me but she was seeing something else.

After class ended and lunch began I stopped her before she walked out of the room. She was picking up her books and still had that look on her face.

"Bad news?" I asked.

She jumped, startled, then glanced up at me. I was right in front of her, but she still seemed completely surprised. "What?"

"You look stressed out. Or sad. Or something." I point to her face to verify my point. "Something happened?"

"No," She said, walking ahead of me. "Nothing's wrong."

I walked with her to her locker, not believing it for one second. She put up her books and pretended like I wasn't there. "I'm taking you to lunch. We're going to talk about this."

She stopped pretending I didn't exist and turned towards me. Her eyes were puffy. "I don't have anything to talk about."

"Then let me take you to lunch anyway."

"I'm not hungry."

It was like she was trying to be difficult. "Just come with me."

"Why?" She asked, shutting her locker door.

"Because I want to spend some time with you. Do you not want to spend time with me?"

I was trying to be persuasive, but she was putting up a fight all on her own. I almost wanted to give in just to not be bothersome, but I knew she needed somebody. If not to talk to then just to be there.

After a while of just staring at me, she nodded. "Okay."

* * *

><p>She followed me to my car and I opened up the door for her. She smiled before getting in. I was going to take us to Tastee Freeze's for the largest helping of tater tots known to man when she spoke up.<p>

"It's just this thing with my parents."

I turned my head, and wondered what she was talking about. "Thing," I repeated.

"It has to do with going to school here." She clarified.

"Here? Like at McKinley?" I was confused. "You mean like at a public school, right?"

"Sort of. Um…" She stopped and looked down at her hands. I merged onto a busy street, we were almost there.

"My mom wants me to go to a private school near my dad's job." She replied.

I felt my stomach drop. _But I just got to know you. _"Is his job close by?"

"No," Mercedes chuckled, though there was no humor in her tone. "He works in New York."

I almost ran into the truck in front of me. "Oh."

"Yeah." She said. My attitude was reflecting hers. Defeated. "It's so complicated because my mom really wants me to go. And I have an interview at the school in a month."

"What school is it?"

"I don't know. I didn't ask, I was so mad when dad told me I didn't even think about it."

"But you don't want to go," I said. "Right?"

"Yeah."

"Well, just don't go."

"I can't do that Sam." She said, shaking her head.

I didn't reply for a moment as I pulled into Tastee Freeze's drive-thru. I was behind two other cars. "Why not?" I asked.

"Because I don't say no to my parents."

_I know the feeling. _"You can do it though. I know you can."

"That's easier said than done, I've never told them no." Mercedes said.

"Just be honest."

"It's not that simple."

"You're right it's not. But that doesn't mean you can't do it. Talk it out with them. When I was in therapy-group therapy, actually-we had to talk it out amongst each other. Like RPing. But without the costumes and amazing storylines."

"Why were you in group therapy?" She asked. I knew she would.

"That's for another conversation at another time. Right now we're talking about you. " I sighed. "Though I can't deny that it helped me a lot. It's like a blueprint to all your conversations."

"Okay."

The line was taking forever, but we were almost at the callbox. "Alright, let's try it."

"What? No!"

"Yes." I replied, "So let's say I'm your dad."

"What?" She said, incredulously.

"I'm your dad," I repeated. "Tell me why you want to stay at McKinley. Tell me if you think going to the interview is even necessary."

Mercedes turned her head away, visibly uncomfortable. "I can't."

"Why not?" I asked, offended. "You think I'm not good at role-playing?"

"No, I believe _that_-"

"Because I'm great at role-playing. I'm been to the Comic Con on more than a few occasions. Plus, I got compliments in GT about it."

She just looked me. "I just can't. This is weird."

"Weird yes. Impossible? No. Now come on."

For a moment she focused in on me. I must seem like the weirdest person in the world, wearing a black V-neck and Big Star jeans, talking about group therapy and RPing.

"Okay, um-" She started.

"Dad." I interjected.

"What?"

"You have to get into the role-playing, Mercy! That is the number one rule to an effective RP."

"Okay." She started again. "Dad?"

I did my best impression of Donnel Jones that I could. "Yes?"

Mercedes gave me the craziest look. "I know you and mom really want what's best for me, but I don't think it's necessary to go to that interview."

I made a timeout gesture with my hands. "Stop."

"What now?"

"You have to be direct with what you say. You can't say, 'I think' or 'I believe'. It has to be cold hard facts. Say it like it's your way or no way." I leaned closer and looked her straight in the eyes. "I know this is crazy but just do it."

She nodded, suddenly determined. "Dad," She said. "I can't leave Ohio. This is my home, my everything. All of my friends are here and I'm not going to give that up for a private school in New York. I don't need to go to that interview because I've already decided."

I motioned for her to keep going.

"Now it may seem like I'm jumping the gun," She reached up and ran her fingers through her hair. I was momentarily distracted. "…But I'm only being honest. It's my senior year and-"

Someone behind us honked their horn very loudly, and I remembered that we were still in the drive-thru at Tastee Freeze.

"Damn!" I said, squeezing the steering wheel tighter. "We were right there."

"Sorry," Mercedes said, like it was her fault. "We'll really do it next time. And even though we didn't finish, you really helped me. Thanks." She smiled.

I felt myself swell with pride. "You're welcome."

* * *

><p>"What about you?" Mercedes asked me, after we pulled into the parking lot of a park by the school. We had twenty five minutes until lunch was over and I felt like the time was running away.<p>

"What do you mean?" I replied, stealing one of her tots. She glared at me.

"Well," She said, "We've discussed some of my issues, it's only fair I hear some of yours."

"You have a point." I chewed slowly and thought for a minute. "What do you want to know?"

"Anything you're willing to say."

"Okay. I'm really passionate about comic-related things, and I have an obsession with superheroes and the movie Avatar." I started. Mercedes was looking at me expectantly, so I continued.

"I wasn't so obsessed with superheroes until my parents almost got a divorce a couple years back. Superheroes never let anything get the best of them, so I tried to model that attitude." I reached for another tot and wasn't maimed in the process. Mercedes was just listening.

"Basically," I said. "When they fought I would be the messenger, because my siblings were way too young to understand what was happening. I couldn't have an opinion because that meant I thought someone was right and that the other person was wrong."

"That must have been difficult." Mercedes said.

"It was. That's when my like for supernatural things became hardcore. It wasn't real anyway, so I was free to believe in whatever." I shifted around in my car seat and cracked the windows open a bit. "Plus, the comic-superhero thing isn't an individual hobby. Millions of people felt the same way I do. I didn't know this entirely until I went to Comic Con my first year. I thought the people were just weirdos that dress up."

"And role-play?" Mercedes said. I nodded. "Those kind of weirdos?"

"Yes," I agreed, giving her a look. She laughed. "And that was fine, but I figured out we were all there for the same reason. Plus, watching Avatar at full volume really drowned out the arguing."

"Wow. That was easy."

"What was?"

"Talking to me about yourself." She said. "I just asked, and you did it."

"Yeah, well," I replied, "That was one of my easier subjects."

"What's one of the harder ones?"

"Why I was in group therapy." I said.

"Oh."

I looked at my phone. "It's almost time to go. You ready?"

"Yeah." She crumbled up her trash and put it in the sack of eaten food. "Hey, Sam?"

"Huh?"

Mercedes smiled. "I heard you were going to try out for the football team."

I rolled my eyes. "What about it?"

"I was just wondering if there's a bit of motivation behind this desire to be on the football team." She said.

Instantly I was suspicious. "Like what?"

"Hot cheerleaders maybe?" She asked me.

"I can't believe you'd automatically assume that," I replied, offended. "God."

"Sam." Mercedes said.

"I'm not going after cheerleaders."

She just looked at me.

"Seriously. I don't like those girls."

"Oh please, Sam. Are you not a teenaged guy?"

"Maybe." I said.

Mercedes laughed. "Whatever."

* * *

><p>After school I had a lot on my mind. Mercedes might be leaving, and I had signed up for multiple ACTs that were just on the horizon. Plus I needed to get a job, plus I still needed to grow balls and tell mom I didn't want to date Quinn. God, I didn't. Quinn was sweet, and gorgeous. Not to mention very flirty, but I still didn't want to date her. Not when Mercedes was still around.<p>

I impressed coach Beiste and I hardly did anything. I ran the field in a little bit more than twenty seconds-granted I was out of good shape-and she put me on the team. She promised she'd have me a specific spot by Friday, but to still dress out and come to practice.

Puck immediately congratulated me as well as the other jocks. Finn slapped me on the back, which I'm assuming is his seal of approval, though I didn't want it nor need it.

"You gonna stay the rest of practice?" Puck asked, as I continued to walk off the track.

"I have tutoring." I lied. I _did _have tutoring, but not on Mondays. I was going home.

"Oh, yeah. Gotta stay eligible." Puck said while nodding, as if this summed up my need for tutoring.

I pointed at him. "Exactly." _Idiot._

* * *

><p>I went home to a loud household. Stacey stole one of Stevie's action figures, which only someone brave does. He was chasing her around the living room. I dropped my backpack on the floor and calmly walked to the scene of events. I was going to assume that mom was taking a bath or something.<p>

"Hey guys, stop." I grabbed Stevie by the shoulder and kept him at bay while Stacey stopped running.

"Now Stacey, give Stevie back his stuff. You know thievery is not cool. And how can a thief be a princess?" I reasoned, giving her a look.

"But Stevie said I was a big fat loser!" She argued, pointing at her brother.

"Why would he do that?" I asked.

"Because she lost at Monopoly!" Stevie exclaimed.

"Only after you lost five times in a row!"

"You're just jealous!"

"Jealousy or no jealousy, you were wrong for what you did. Both of you two." I interjected.

"Stacey, you are not what Stevie says you are. You're what you _believe_ you are, remember?" She bobbed her head up and down.

"But you also know that stealing is wrong. So I'll wait, but both of you two are going to apologize to each other and give their belongings back." I let Stevie go and crossed my arms expectantly.

Stevie walked toward Stacey reluctantly. "Stacey, I'm sorry I called you bad names."

"I forgive you." Stacey looked up at me. I gestured for her to go on. "And I'm sorry I stole your toy." She returned the action figured and Stevie smiled before taking off towards his room.

I was about to leave too whenever I felt Stacey grab my hand. "What is it?"

"Uh, Sammy?"

"Yeah?"

She looked down at her sock covered feet. "_Victorious _isn't on yet, so could I stay with you until it's on? I don't like being downstairs by myself."

I nodded, already taking her up the stairs with me. "No one should ever be by their self wherever they are. Let's go."

* * *

><p><strong>How was this chapter? You like it? Hate it? Think Mercedes has lost her mind? I love sam in this chapter. I was reading one of my favorite stories, <em>Just Listen<em> and was totally inspired.**

**Please tell me what you thought, I'm begging you. I could really use some reassurance that you still like where the story's going. So? What are you waiting for? Be like Nike and JUST DO IT.**


	16. I once was lost, but now I'm found

**Mercedes' POV**

The sound of my phone buzzing woke me up from my daily nap. I was sleeping off the remainder of my muscle-relaxers, and for a moment I forgot where I was. I was hidden in the recesses of the reading room; somewhere in between my guilty pleasure bookcase and the romance bookshelf. I must have fallen asleep before I could make it to the bean bag. My neck hurt and there was drool on my arm.

I rose up, stretched my arms out and heard the popping of my joints. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone. It was Santana.

"It's me." Santana said.

"Hey." I replied, feeling uneasy. There was a sense of foreign awkwardness to this conversation already, and we barely started. "Where are you?"

"Oh," She laughed. "Nowhere particular. I'm kind of on the move."

"Okay then. Where are you right now?"

"I'm almost out of Ohio."

"Almost out of Ohio is not a specific location." I replied.

"Why do you want to know? Is grandma asking where I am already?"

I rolled my eyes, annoyed. "No. Am I not allowed to care about your surroundings?"

Santana sighed. "No, you're not. Not when I need you to be here with me Wheezy. I miss you."

I swallowed the lump in my throat. Santana always had that effect on me. It was as simple as, _I miss you, _to get me going. Before she could say anything else I already had the prickle behind my eyes and the pinch in my throat.

"Santana." I said. "You need to come back."

"I told you. I'm okay."

"That's not what I asked."

"I know." She replied, before sighing. "I just need a little more time, Mercy."

I didn't know what to say to that. We were quiet for a moment.

"Hey, Mercedes?"

"Yeah?"

"Remember what I said, about making my mind up? Well, I decided that I don't want to leave for therapy just yet. I'm not ready. I want to explore this side of myself, of who I might be, before I become something I regret."

I nodded, even though I knew she couldn't see me. "I want you to, too."

"Thanks."

"So, anything special happening in Lima?" She asked, obviously changing subjects.

"No, well, not really…"

"Okay, something_ did _happen. Care to explain?"

"Um," I said, "I actually wouldn't."

"I'm sorry," Santana started, "That wasn't a question. I meant to say, _you better explain._"

"Fine." And so I did, I told her everything that's been going on the past two days, and to my astonishment, she didn't interrupt; she just listened.

"It was Quinn, babe. She told your mom." Santana said finally.

"I know, well, I mean I figured it was but—"

"Mercedes, I know what you're doing." She interrupted. "You're trying to brush this over because believing that Quinn is screwing you over—again—is exactly what you didn't want to happen."

I bit my lip. "It's not, but it's not like I wasn't expecting this."

"Then what are you waiting on?" Santana asked, "I tried to give Quinn the benefit of the doubt, but my doubts weren't disappointed. People don't change."

"I know but—"

"But what? There is no excuse for the crap she pulls."

I was getting angry. I was getting angry a lot easier lately. "I know that! But there's no proof it was _really _Quinn. Maybe someone else told her, maybe mom heard about it from someone else."

"Are you serious?! Are you _seriously _going to turn your head in the other direction while she's fucking you over?" Santana exclaimed.

"No." I replied, trying to calm down. "But every time something goes wrong in my life I can't go pointing fingers at Quinn because she's the perfect scapegoat."

"She's not the perfect scapegoat Mercedes, she's the culprit!"

My eyes narrowed; there was no calming down around Santana. "You know what I think, Santana? I think you're afraid." I swallowed, gaining confidence with every word. "No, I _know_ you're afraid. You don't want me to be friends with anyone else because you know that means less time spent on you. That's selfish Santana."

"I can't believe you'd say that to me."

"I can't believe you want to keep me to yourself; poor Mercedes, friendless and senseless. Never knows what's going on, right?" I snapped.

"That's not what I want. Besides, you have Kurt."

"Oh, fuck Kurt!" I practically yelled. My anger was at its peak again for the second time today. "You and I both know that as long as he has Blaine, everyone takes a backseat to him. I will always be third wheel with him, but with you, it's just us. But not anymore, because Quinn's in my life again. Therein lies the problem, right? You think you're going to be third wheel? Don't worry; I won't fall in love with her. Promise."

"You bitch."

"Well that makes two of us!" I hung up on her and was leaning up against my bookshelves before I knew it. I couldn't even think of the damage done, I was so pissed. I stuffed my phone in my pocket, then grabbed onto the bookshelf and pushed myself up.

I walked around to the threshold, about to leave, when I saw my mom sitting in of the bean bag chairs. She was examining her nails and humming absentmindedly. This was weird enough, but then mix with her not being glued to her phone checking for a make-nice dinner, coupled with her staring at me, and you have a total WTF situation. I didn't know what she was doing, but I could guess that she was waiting on me.

"Hey Mercedes." She said as I walked toward her. "I need to talk to you."

The first thought that came to mind was that she was going to get on to me for being friends with Santana again, or to scold me for not being ecstatic over my interview in a few months. But probably both.

"Okay." I said, slipping into a bean bag beside her. "What did you need to talk about?"

Mom cleared her throat and shifted, obviously trying to emit authority vibes while sitting in a bean bag chair. She looked at me. "Tell me about what happened between you and your father."

Hearing this, I couldn't help but feel underwhelmed. _Didn't she hear us arguing though? _"This morning?"

"What, is there something else I don't know about?" She asked.

"No I—I don't know."

"Okay. Are you going to fill me in with what happened earlier?"

_Oh God, _I thought. "What did dad say?" I replied, ready to argue my case after hearing his.

"Well," She said, rubbing her knees, "From my understanding, he told you about my plan for private school, and you apparently flipped out. Told him that I couldn't keep you from your friends just because I don't like them."

"Really," I started flatly, "Well he told you right."

She raised an eyebrow, amazed by my tone. If this were any other time, I would've checked myself. But I was feeling pretty reckless today. "Your father is prepared to go visit Dr. Russell. He says you had an outburst."

I felt a flare of anger so familiar it was like an old friend. "I'm a teenager, am I not allowed an outburst once in a while?"

Mom just looked at me for a moment. Slowly, like she thought I wouldn't understand, she said, "Donnel told me you're showing signs of… previous behavior."

"Meaning what?"

"We haven't seen him in a long time; we're thinking that we might have to increase the dosage of Celexa."

"That isn't necessary. I'm fine. One little fit and you're threatening to drug me up?" I shook my head, looking away. "That's insane."

"Mercedes, look at me."

I did. I already knew what she was pulling. "What, mom?"

"Your pupils are dilated."

"Okay."

"When you take the Celexa and your pupils dilate, you don't act like this." She sat back in the bean bag, rubbing a hand over her face and looking very tired. "I don't know what pills you're taking, Mercedes, but please stop. We don't want to go to Dr. Russell any more than you do. But you have to _behave._"

I wanted to break something, or scream. "Okay. Sorry."

She got up from the chair in the most dignified way she could manage and pulled me into a hug. "Your father and I love you very much."

I hugged her back, before letting go and going down the stairs and out of the house. I knew that I probably shouldn't go where I was headed considering my state of mind, but it was better than moping around the house. Even if that was what I was really doing anyway.

* * *

><p>I didn't know where Sam lived, and in order to get to his house I needed to know. But I didn't want to call.<p>

I sat in my car for a few minutes, looking around at the garage, and thought back to when Sam was right here with me. I still don't know why we didn't kiss. Why he didn't kiss me, actually. Because I was ready, more ready than I've ever been ready for something in my entire life. I stared down at my phone, and thought of everything going wrong in my life. How no matter how many times I cried for help, no one heard. How my selfish parents didn't care about the last child in the house. How none of my brothers visited or called anymore. How nobody cared. Then I started to cry.

This was all just such a mess. And I was so, so, so tired. If I were drive away in this car, right now, and run away from my problems like Santana did, I wouldn't have a Mercedes covering for me. I didn't have a friend like myself that would do for me what I've done for Santana. I had no one. The one person I would have considered I wasn't even sure could deal with me and all my problems. We barely knew each other. I knew that my secrets were plentiful, and my mistakes more. But I didn't want to be alone.

I wiped my eyes off with my shirt and inhaled. I picked up my phone again and found Sam in my contacts. I pressed talk hesitantly, and waited.

"Hey," I said after his hello, "Uh, could I come over to your house or we could meet somewhere or something? I really need to talk to you."

"Are you okay?"

I think about saying I am, and maybe flirting a bit, but I was tired of lying. "No."

"Oh."

"So…" I said slowly.

He was very quiet for a moment. "Come over."

* * *

><p><strong>Sam's POV<strong>

I was watching Avatar when Mercedes called me. It was almost eight o'clock, and she called asking if she could come over. I wasn't going to deny Mercedes access to my house, but I still couldn't help but be a bit worried over her tone. She sounded strange.

I didn't know when I became Dr. Phil, but this was doing nothing for my testosterone. All of the listening and advice giving—believe it or not— was not my thing. Even before all the financial problems rose, I never was so bluntly friend-zoned. I was never friend-zoned back in Tennessee because when I talked to girls and invested my time in them, _I was not their friend. _

Not to say that I didn't like being friends with Mercedes. I loved it, actually.

I sighed, walking to my bathroom to put on a dab of cologne before Mercy got here. I looked at myself in the mirror and what was behind me. My hair was longer than it had been in a few months, but I was too lazy to go get it cut. I thought I looked pretty decent today. Clean hair, clean shirt, and clean sweats. I mean, yeah, it wasn't fancy and I wasn't wearing the kind of stuff only people like the Jones and Fabrays could afford, but it was alright. I ran a hand over my chin and felt the slight stubble. I closed my eyes.

In truth, I didn't like wearing clothes that fit close to my body anymore. I wasn't interested in attracting attention. That wasn't me. It never was, but when I had to attract attention I did. After my family got out of the slump we were in, none of us has been the same since.

Dad's never home. He's always working I think, and if he's not working I don't know where he is. Mom doesn't work, her efforts were going toward being a housewife and desperately climbing the social ladder. I don't know what I'm trying to do. I guess I changed a bit, but only for the better.

I went back to my bed and sat, waiting for Mercedes to ring the doorbell. Mom was gone, I think she went to Mrs. Fabray's and dad was still at work, or whatever. The only people in the house currently were my siblings and I. I didn't care that my parents weren't around anymore because I stopped caring about their presence long ago. I think selling my body and working myself practically to death without them noticing played some part in that.

I yawned. I had applications to Universities I could be filling out, and homework that was due later on in the week, but I wasn't going to do it. I yawned again. The last thing I remember before dozing off is that Mercedes will call my phone to wake me up.

The next thing I knew, I was waking up to the sound of the doorbell. I slid off the bed and walked down the stairs, and to the front door. I pulled it open, so ready to see Mercedes' face. When I did I saw Mercedes in a hoodie and sweats, looking as tired as I was. I was already opening up my mouth to say hi when she shook her head and walked past me, into my house.

We were in the foyer, me staring at her, while she looked around. I was waiting for her to say something. She took a minute to breathe and gaze about the room. My house was nowhere near the palace-like mansion of the Jones' estate, but it was a home. She didn't look like she was scrutinizing my house, just looking. That was fine by me.

"I don't want to talk in the open," She said after a while. "Can we go to your room?"

* * *

><p><strong>Mercedes' POV<strong>

My mom would probably beat me like a step child if she knew how I was acting. I looked like a crack addict and I was going into a boy's room. How scary.

My head hurt, my eyelids were swollen and my cheeks were flushed. If I was intent on going into Sam's room to do the nasty, I wasn't making my case any better by _looking_ nasty. I looked around his room that was half the size of mine. It sure wasn't huge in quantity, but it made up for it in quality. I liked his room. It seemed alive, and not infested with teen aged drama and depression.

I looked at the various superhero posters on all his walls before smiling. At a corner of his room there was a shrine-like place dedicated to all things Avatar related. It was mad cute. I turned around and glanced at him, trying not to notice him watching me. I didn't know how someone so adorable was still single. I stared at his lumpy bed longingly.

"Can we sit on your bed?"

He nodded. I sat cross-legged on his bed. It was gloriously lumpy just as I had imagined. I couldn't stop grinning.

"So what's going on?" He asked after slipping onto the bed beside me.

I told him everything. I told him about Quinn deserting me and popping back up again, I told him about Santana and her selfishly flaky ways. I told him about Kurt leaving me for Blaine, I told him about my brothers leaving me for college. I told him that my parents even left me too, for their careers. I said that I knew that they loved me, but it was still not enough. I told him about how everyone kept leaving me, no matter what I did.

"It's not enough, you know?" I was saying, "Money and gifts and clothes and _stuff. _Stuff can't mend a home, right? It can't hug me or wipe away my tears. It can't love me."

Sam looked at me and considered this. Then he said, "Well that explains a lot."

"What?"

"You have a lot of stuff."

"Yeah." I said flatly.

"Well," He started, shifting his eyes at me, "Your parents are attempting to make it better because they know what they're doing is wrong. They're trying really hard, Mercedes."

"You're taking their side?"

"No." He replied. "I'm on yours, definitely. But from my perspective, it's not your friends being flaky that's bothering you. It's your family. Because family's important, right?"

I didn't say anything. I just looked away from him, pouting. He kept talking.

"People do shitty things all the time to the ones they love. And it's impossible to try and understand, or even change that."

"But I shouldn't have to do anything!" I snapped, getting angry all over again. "It's not my fault I keep getting abandoned, it's not my damn problem that my parents have high demanding jobs! "

"It's not." Sam agreed.

"I'm still their kid, though. I still matter. They can't just float me away on a sea of antidepressants. I can't just be ignored." I stopped, swallowing the lump in my throat. I felt myself immediately deflate into despondency.

Finally I said, "Why do I keep getting treated like crap? I don't deserve this."

"You don't."

"I shouldn't have to put up with this."

"You shouldn't."

I blinked, hard. And before I could stop it, I was crying again. Big, blubbery, fat tears running down my face because of how unfair it was. I was crying as Sam held me, and cried even harder because for once I had a shoulder—literally—to cry on. I laid down, curling into a heap of pathetic on Sam's lap. I tried to say something, tried to make this situation less ridiculous, but my voice was ragged. I cried and cried, rain bursting from my eyelids. I couldn't stop. Just as I calmed down enough to breathe properly I thought of something else and the storm wreaked havoc again. I knew I was ruining Sam's jeans with my snotty mess, but he held me anyway. Sam told me to relax, and that it was going to be all right. Then, finally, as the sounds of his household lured my eyes closed, I believed him.

* * *

><p><strong>Okay, this is definitely a shorter chapter, but I didn't want it to get too long and take away from the context, because this is a huge turning point in the story. <strong>**If anyone has read my oneshot-maybe-thingie H.A.T.E.U, don't fret! I just don't know what to do with it right now. **

**I have to say a huge THANK YOU to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. I really love you guys. You keep me going, and I'm so thankful.**

_**Please review this chapter and tell me your thoughts! Until next time!**_


	17. Just the Two of Us

**MPOV**

"Wow," I said. "I really need to go home."

Sam turned around. He held up two cans of Coke. My face broke into a wide smile. "Really? It's only, like, six o'clock."

I quirked an eyebrow and glanced at the clock behind us. "Sam, it's eight-thirty."

When he saw me staring at the clock, he also checked the time. "Huh… it _is_ eight-thirty."

"You have a keen sense of observation."

He bitched: "You don't bite the hand that gives you a ride."

"Don't flatter yourself, Evans. I'd never bite your hand."

"You could've fooled me." He sassed.

I stuck my tongue out at him and grabbed the cokes, whilst making a beeline for the front door. I really did have to go home. I grabbed my backpack and walked out of the house, and onto the driveway. I could hear Sam whining inside about not having proper friends.

I had to hoist myself into Sam's truck, it was that huge. I settled the cokes down in cup holders and sighed contently. After my miniature breakdown last month, I didn't know how Sam was going to deal. But the truth was he handled me better than I expected, actually. It was pathetic how I clung to him like an emo teen, but whatever. That was over. The brooding was over.

"So," Sam said, hopping into his truck that stood too far up from the ground naturally. "I'm taking you home, homie?"

"Home, homes." I agreed.

* * *

><p>"You know, this country music is the kind of stuff people complain about." I was saying as Sam drove me back to the estate.<p>

"You're the kind of person people complain about." Sam retorted.

"Honestly, this sucks, its rubbish, absolutely dreadful…"

Sam flipped me off. "That's rich, coming from you. All you like is shitty R&B."

"Shitty R&B?" I asked, "You think it's all shitty. There aren't ranks of good and bad R&B here. It's all in or all out."

"Speaking of in and out, all they talk about is sex! It's pathetic, can't they sing about something else?"

I looked at him. "What's bad about that?"

He raised his eyebrows. "Odd, I never pegged you as a whore. But looks can be deceiving."

I promptly hit him. "I'm not a whore, you butt. I haven't even…anyway, sex isn't bad. The way its depicted in R&B songs makes the act seem beautiful. I mean—sure there's a lot of hype built into the act, but that's not the special part, the special part is…why are you looking at me like that?"

"Oh nothing, I'm just going back and forth between wondering if you're a closet slut or a confused virgin."

"You're a prick."

"We're not talking about me though, are we? Besides, there's nothing 'special' about it. It can be enjoyable, and even fun, depending on who it's with."

My eyes rolled. "You can say this how?"

"Well," Sam said, his chest puffing. "I'm experienced. I know what I'm talking about."

"Having sex with one guy doesn't count, Sam."

He glared at me before muttering about his only friend was a bitch.

"That makes two of us," I smiled, before remembering that was the last thing I said to Santana. I shook my head.

"_Just the two of us,_" I sang. "_We can make it if we try, just the two of us..._"

Sam laughed. "What are you singing_?_"

Shrugging, I answered, "No idea. It's just something I've heard on TV years ago. I think it's a 60's or 70's song. Sounds disco-hippie-esque."

"Fucking weirdo."

"At least I'm fucking."

"Yeah right," He said, "You say these things, but we're together 24/7. How can you get laid with me around all the time? Unless you're one of those rape-guys-when-their-asleep types."

"You'd like that wouldn't you?"

"How do all of our conversations keep turning to this?" He pondered.

"Well I'm bored, and your poor peen has been frying in the Sahara desert."

"No really, we've never talked about it this much, _or at all, _until now. I mean…" He trailed off, staring at something in the distance.

That's when I realized where we were. We were just approaching my house, closer to the estate than I thought in this short amount of time. In the wrap around driveway, there was a car. And it didn't look familiar. Probably belonged to us but that wasn't helping my recollection.

"Who's that?" He asked.

"I dunno. Mom probably got a new Beemer. Or invited someone over with a Beemer, or dad got the new car. Or we've always had it and I don't notice anything. The possibilities are endless."

"No, I meant, who's that as in, _who's that in the car._"

I craned my next to figure out, but I couldn't see who it was. "Get closer to the car. Park beside it—its _fine _Sam—fine, you don't have to park beside it—quit bitching, you're not gonna get in trouble—I can't see—hurry up!"

We slid up the driveway. As we finally got within staring distance, I realized it wouldn't matter whether we hid behind a shrub or honked the car horn. The person was obviously in the own world, yacking on the phone. He was a man, with handsome features and a handsome stance. It bothered me.

I turned to Sam. "We have to go in the house."

"We?"

"Yes _we _you prick. I can't go in alone now!"

"Why?"

"My mom could be cheating on my dad, that's why."

"There's no guarantee your mom is unfaithful Mercedes. That man could be disclosing important information and we're snooping around like idiots." Sam said.

"People are always guilty until proven innocent Sam, remember that. This is what we're going to do…"

* * *

><p>The plan was simple. We were supposed to pull out of the driveway and drive around the block. Once parked, Sam and I were going to walk back to my house and sneak in through my bedroom window. Sneaking in was the only way to see what was really happening. If my mom was doing something despicable, I was going to charge at her without remorse. If it was fine and all was well, I'd sneak away and come in the house through the front door like a normal person. Sam was with me for moral support.<p>

"I don't understand why I have to be here for this." Sam complained as we walked back to my house.

"I need you with me for this. I can't face the unknown by myself. I don't want to, and you know if the tables were turned I'd do the same for you."

Sam nodded and reached down for my hand. I felt my heart swell in a way that was far from platonic. Sam held my hand a lot more lately. Usually he only did it when I needed comfort. Now he held my hand randomly, and it made me dizzy with hope. I wish I had someone to rant this to, but I didn't anymore.

Santana was gone, or she was around and wasn't speaking to me. I couldn't particularly blame her either. The last time we spoke I was a raging bitch. But something about her silence irked me. Usually when Santana and I fought, we wouldn't talk for a few days and then we'd mutually apologize and everything was back to normal. If our friendship was as important as I thought, she wouldn't be giving me the incessant silent treatment. It wasn't fair. She can be a bitch to me on the regular, but if I snap one time we're done?

It wasn't right how she was so damn selfish. And yeah, I haven't made an effort to call or show my concern, but I was done groveling for her friendship. We haven't spoken to each other in a month, and oddly I was okay with that.

I was also okay with Kurt ignoring me. He kept me posted in developments with Santana when she decided to show her face around town randomly, but other than that he was distant. The last time we had a serious talk he said he was going to start making an honest attempt to setting goals for his future and NYADA and/or Julliard was a part of them. Ever since that spiel he's been so far up Rachel's ass it's gross to witness. He was selfish just like Santana. I had goals, I had ambitions. I loved performing arts and music just as much as he did. I was the one that had parents with connections, but who does he flock to? Rachel Berry?

I loved them, Santana and Kurt. They were my best friends when I needed them and great shields when I wanted it, however time makes people change. They left me just like I always knew they would. In all honesty I never expected them to stay. Everyone always leaves.

I know one day Sam will leave too. He's too nice and funny and cute and stable to stay with me. But while I have him now I want him to be with me at all times. I know I'm holding him back from pretty girls like Quinn and popular guys like Puck, but I don't care. He'll leave me soon enough I already know. I don't care if I'm selfish right now.

"What are we going to do if we're caught?" Sam asked me now.

"_I'll _be the one to take the blame. You just run to my room and slip out the window."

"That's not a very manly thing to do."

I cut my eyes over at him. "Quit thinking with your testicles look at the situation logically. My mom's the _senator. _There's no glory in being busted by someone that important."

"I'm starting to think I shouldn't even be doing this, Cedes." Sam admitted.

I squeezed his hand and walked in front of him so we stopped. "Don't say things like that. I'm sorry for being rude earlier. I'm stressed about this too, okay? That's why I need you with me."

"Alright, fine. But this plan better work."

I learned later that night that nothing ever works out the way you think it will.

* * *

><p>"Sam for God's sake you're stepping on my heels." I whispered harshly as we crept through my hallway to where I heard my mother talking.<p>

Sam sighed exasperatedly. "Well fuck, it's not like I can just walk normally in this house. We're _eavesdropping, _remember?" I turned my head around to glare at him.

We walked to the end of the hallway before I stopped. Mom was loud enough for me to hear from the living room all the way up to where we were. I know they were downstairs because mom was turning down the volume on the TV. I could hear her talking, but it wasn't panting sighs or rushed sentiments. They were talking about Santana.

"This sounds bad." She was saying to that man I saw sitting in my driveway.

"I don't want to jump to conclusions, but it's usually a lost cause in these cases. The police don't investigate for longer than a few days before calling it quits. And there's only so much we can do."

I hold my breath, not believing what I heard. Not realizing what I'm hearing. Mom keeps talking. "She's not…the police are still in the process of investigating what happened. They didn't find her body, so there's a great possibility she's just hiding."

The barrel of bad news man sighs. "Yes, we've been over that already Mrs. Jones. That seems to be the only silver lining of hope. The detectives are about done with this case. She could be somewhere dead, and we may never find her. We don't waste time on juvenile delinquents when there are bigger fish to fry. For kids like her dead or alive doesn't make much difference. She could be alive somewhere drinking underage and breaking laws, or she could be dead somewhere from alcohol poisoning. And we know she hasn't been to school for a whole month. There's no way she was even going to graduate on time with her class."

I feel Sam tense from behind. I cover up my mouth and count to ten, then to one hundred.

"You talk as if you're speaking of the deceased." My mom says.

"She probably_ is_ deceased, Senator. Explain to me why you needed this information to begin with? Do you know anything about the night she went missing?"

"Of course not," Mom snaps, "I don't have time to be keeping tabs on Santana Lopez. I needed this information so it can be obscured. My daughter has been pretty fragile lately, and Santana is the cause of it. I know they haven't been talking for over a month, so if something _did _happen Mercedes can't know. My election is in a couple of weeks and if Mercedes caught wind of this she'd definitely relapse."

"So you don't want this in local newspapers or on TV?" He asked.

"Exactly."

I turn away from the staircase and try to make it back to my room in one piece. I'm trembling so badly Sam has to hold me the entire way there. With his strength I manage to close the door and sit on my bed before falling apart. Sam's rubbing my back and it helps a little, but I'm steadily breaking down. We listen to the wind blow. I lie down.

* * *

><p>"Sam?"<p>

"Yeah?"

"I have scars. I have seriously deep rooted issues. But I don't want to think about me anymore, so tell me, why were you in anger management? You have scars too, right?"

Sam sighed, moving to lie down beside me. "You're sure you want to hear this right now?

"It can't be worse than what I expect."

He shrugged. "It gets pretty ugly."

"Drugs?"

"No." He adjusts himself and is now lying on his back.

"Well what is it?"

Sam fidgeted. I rolled my eyes. "Sam, tell me."

"Everything?"

"Everything."

He takes a breath and shifts around more. "There's this family," he starts. "Two parents, three kids, two nice stable incomes. They lived in a two story house. Add one year of bad luck and a worse economy. Subtract the two stable incomes and two story house. Divide that by three kids plus two adults. That leaves you with nothing but bills right?

"We picked up what was left of our belongings that wasn't pawned or sold and lived in a hotel room. Mom and dad looked for jobs like maniacs and I worked at a nearby pizzeria like one. They didn't find jobs for almost a whole year. How did we continue to pay for that hotel room? Minimum wage couldn't cover the costs of food and clothes and a hotel room, so what did I do?

"My dyslexia was kicking me in the ass that year. I had tutoring practically every day and it wasn't helping. One day I was walking to work from school and a woman stopped me. She asked if I was model. I said no. She said I should come by Abercrombie in the mall one day and talk to her about becoming a model because it paid well. She wasn't lying; it paid extremely well to stand around shirtless outside a store. One day while I was outside Abercrombie modeling, another woman approached me. She told me if I modeled for her I could make ten times the amount in one hour than what I make at Abercrombie in a week. But I had to be a legal adult. I was only sixteen then, so I lied. Because who wouldn't?

"That woman lied about modeling. She didn't lie about the money though. She wasn't a modeling agent and I should've stayed at Abercrombie. That woman was recruiting guys to work at her stripping club."

I gasped. Sam coughed uncomfortably, but I knew he was going to keeping telling his story, so I didn't say anything.

"That first night I seriously considered leaving the club and never coming back, but I was already there. It was okay until women started paying me at the club to give them lap dances. I only knew how to body roll, and I didn't even have a stage name. It was beyond humiliating and degrading. I was a disgraceful human being and I slowly started to hate myself. But the money was good, so I stayed.

"The last night I worked at the club was the worst. A woman was paying for a lap dance like usual, and she told me for a few hundreds she wanted me to fuck her in her car. I did. I remember her name because I lost my virginity to her. Her name was Elizabeth. Despite my despondency she enjoyed herself, so I got my money. As I was leaving her car to go back in the club, I cut my arm on a broken mug in one of her cup holders. It felt amazing."

I felt Sam sit up so I sat up too. He raised a sleeve on his hoodie and showed me the fading scars on the underside of his arm. The first few marks in his skin were short like claw scratches, but the ones further down were longer and still light pink. I looked at him and reached out to touch them. He didn't pull away. "I started self-harming that night. Cutting hurt was a different brand of hurt. Cutting made it easier to forget about having my life and my dignity and my body stolen from me. It made it easier to not care.

"I stopped coming to the club after that, and the results were cataclysmic. I stopped working completely for a long time, to try and get my act together. No one knew I stripped, so when the money stopped coming in they thought I quit Abercrombie. Dad hated me for it. He said I didn't have any work ethic and I needed to start thinking about the family more. My father, who was becoming deadbeat and wouldn't work part time somewhere to put food on the table. Though I was the one without work ethic.

"After that I decided that I was done with my father for a while. But one day after school he started yelling at me to get my old job back because we were running out of funds, and I lost it. I punched his lights out. I ran away for a few days and when I came back, dad told me that he got a new job in Ohio and they were leaving. Dad said the only way that I could live with my family again was to take anger management classes, so I did. Right after that senior year started, and now I'm here with you."

I stared at Sam, amazed. Here I was, acting like a complete drama queen, and Sam's been through hell and back. "So they don't know?"

"No."

"Does anyone know?"

"No, only you." He said.

I flung my arms around him. "Thank you for telling me. I don't think of you any another way, Sam. I'm not ashamed of you and I'm not repulsed by what you've done. I love you all the same."

Sam wiped away tears I didn't feel fall down my face. I couldn't help but cry over Sam's story, because he still tenacious and hasn't fallen apart like I do daily.

"Say that again."

"What part?"

"That you love me."

I smiled. "I love you Sam."

"I love you Mercedes."

He hugged me and slipped off my bed. "I still have to leave, but we'll figure Santana out later, okay? Just go to bed."

"Okay." I sat up and stared at him as he climbed outside my window.

"What?" He asked, grinning.

"Say it again."

"I love you Mercedes." He whispered from outside.

I got up and closed my window. "I love you too." The moment I turned around, mom was closing my bedroom door behind her. I stepped back in surprise.

"Mercedes," Mom said sternly. "We have to talk."

* * *

><p><strong>I didn't really proof read, so yeah...<strong>

**Thanks for all the reviews last chapter! I hope you enjoyed this one, and please review!**


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